


Summer of 1991

by Auggusst



Series: Alternate Universes [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 1991, 7 year age gap, Abusive Parents, Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Challenges, Childhood Trauma, Choking, Cockwarming, Consensual Kink, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Deepthroating, Depression, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Facials, Fluff, Games, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Howard Stark's Bad Parenting, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Tony Stark, M/M, Magical Healing Cock, Name-Calling, Orgasm Delay, Playful Sex, Protective Steve Rogers, Psychological Trauma, Punishment, Safe Sane and Consensual, Secret Relationship, Self-Hatred, Sex Games, Sexual Fantasy, Snarky Tony Stark, Spanking, Teasing, Tony Stark Has Daddy Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Verbal Humiliation, on screen abuse(brief), steve is 28, summer of 1991, tony is 21
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:20:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23828230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auggusst/pseuds/Auggusst
Summary: A collection of moments between Steve Rogers (28) and Tony Stark (21) and their somewhat secret relationship following Steve's awakening from the ice in 1989. The summer of 1991, the summer before the death of Tony's parents, is spent in Howard's beautiful, private villa in Sicily, a playground of romance and disquiet for Steve and Tony.New chapter added July 25 2020!
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Alternate Universes [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1703173
Comments: 76
Kudos: 392





	1. Teach Me A Lesson (Please)

**Author's Note:**

> Recently updated! I don't know how many parts I'm going to add to this, but I do want to write a bit of it. If it gets to be long, I'll probably turn it into a series, but for now, check back periodically to see if I added new chapters! Also feel free to take each chapter as stand-alone if you want. They're all connected, but I know sometimes when new content gets added later on it changes the memory of a fic.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When bratty 21 year old Tony Stark humiliates a group of party-goers for the millionth time, his big, beautiful boyfriend Steve (28) has to teach him a lesson about bad behavior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay this fucking MONSTER was not supposed to be 10k!!! I am angry but not surprised. I got a little overzealous with this concept, and it's clear in how damn gratuitous it is. I really just be out here exposing my own fantasies huh. Whatever. It's good material.
> 
> Anyway this fic is dedicated to @Imperialstark because I came up with the idea speaking to her and she deserve the world for putting up with my constant whining. Also go check out the fics on her AO3 by the same username!!

Tony was, in the truest sense of the word, kind of a brat.

Maybe it was the silver spoon he was born up his asshole with, or maybe it was because he was absurdly gorgeous and _knew_ he was, or maybe it was something to do with the way he was raised, with the juxtaposition of utter lack of attention from his actual parents and the extreme doting on by his nanny.

Either way, at 21, Tony managed to have the attitude of a 15 year old, which was mildly hilarious, because he was smarter than people twice his age. He was serious, when he had to be. He could be respectful, when he wanted to be. Most of the time though, he found a sense of satisfaction in getting the upper hand in a conversation, in twisting words around to get what he wanted, whether by outsmarting his conversation partner or turning on the charm. For every bit a brat Tony was, he was equally charming, and that was really the kicker. It was how he kept people around, how he stretched people to the limits of their patience and left them coming back for more.

Steve knew Tony was a brat when they started dating. He knew Tony was a brat the day they met, actually, when Howard dragged his then 19 year old son to Steve’s retirement party after his ice-induced coma. After almost dying and waking up in a completely new world, Steve kind of had enough of fighting, and wanted to do something else with his time. He was offered a position at SHIELD, but that didn’t seem right either. He would lend his aid should an emergency arise, of course, but had no desire to return to the daily drills and strict rules of the military.

Either way, that night, in a room full of awe-struck, respectful, _old_ individuals, Tony stood out like a flashlight in the dark. Steve had been drawn to him like a moth to the flame, and although it was all initially quite innocent, with him simply being curious about Tony and wanting to get to know him, somewhere during the following parties and dinners and visits to Howard’s mansion Steve was getting his heartstrings tugged by those deft (and pampered) little fingers.

Tony would admit to seducing Steve, if asked. He touched him whenever possible, saved his best smiles for Steve, made sure he looked extra nice when the blond came around. He would eat his popsicles in the warm summer months _just so_ in the way that would make the soldier’s cheeks go red. He played the sweet boy, and turned around and became sultry in mere seconds. He pressed himself against Steve at any opportunity, all but sat in his lap, and that was just because he didn’t want his dad finding out about his little crush, if he bothered to pay attention more than the five minutes it took to yell at Tony about something. Tony turned on the charm _hard_ where Steve was concerned, because Tony wanted him, needed him, and the brat in him wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

Luckily, the thought never crossed Steve’s mind. He wanted Tony just as much as Tony wanted him, and although he never considered making the first move, thought it improper given the fact that there were 7 years between them and Tony was Howard’s _son_ , he wanted, pretty badly. Thankfully Tony took the leap, one night after calling Steve to save him from a house party that had gone too far. Tony had cried into his chest, shaken, ashamed, and the bastard and his friends who’d tried to hurt him, to take _advantage_ of him, ended up bloodied and bruised and terrified.

Steve took Tony to his apartment, made sure he was safe and comfortable, and lastly, at Tony’s request, Steve kissed him that night. And from there? Well. Steve had a hard time denying Tony anything. At least, he did initially, because, as stated before, Tony was a brat.

He was being a brat now, two years into their (more or less secret—pretty much the whole world knew except for Tony’s father) relationship, sitting by the bar in Howard’s summer villa in Sicily. Somewhere along the way, Steve had become Tony’s liaison(babysitter), at the request of Howard, when he couldn’t figure out what else to do with his life, and spent a lot of time around Tony anyway, so that worked out just fine for them, made things easier when it was clear Tony was interested in Steve, and Steve had no plans to rebuff his advances. There were a lot of convenient excuses to be together, and a lot of _opportunities_ , so to speak.

Tony liked Steve a lot. He liked that Steve was older than him too. He liked it a lot, actually. It made Steve seem wiser, more confident, and he was always so set in his ways, took everything in stride, while Tony asked a thousand questions and went back and forth with internal arguments, felt unsure and entirely sure the next second, and was victim to the never-ending storm of emotion and confliction that came with youth. He liked that Steve was steady, smart, and kind, and of course, that he was so _gorgeous_ , that he was a _man_ , and that there wasn’t a hint of boyish stupidity to his features as Tony would insist still was visible on his own. He liked that Steve could protect him, had on occasion when some idiot got a little too handsy, or when Tony opened his big mouth too far and stirred up real trouble, or when he was simply a victim, when life deemed it time for everything to turn to the worst.

He also liked being a handful: a handful which fit perfectly in the breadth of Steve’s huge and warm grasp.

He liked pushing Steve’s buttons too. He liked pushing everyone’s buttons really, found it absolutely satisfying to rile other people up. He liked making things up, playing with the truth, or simply laying out facts, using his superior intellect to make people second-guess themselves or to get angry with him. He _really_ liked being able to turn people twice his age into sputtering idiots. That was to be expected, of course, because he was a _brat._

Steve had a lot of patience though, knew how to handle Tony most of the time. A firm hand on his waist or a warning spoken lowly into his ear was usually enough to get Tony to behave, at least for a little while. Tony was perfectly sweet when they were alone, always listened and even conceded often, let Steve have his way. He could compromise when he wanted to. He rarely lied, and was always eager to spend time with Steve, regardless of how that time was spent. He was kind, and curious, and helpful, and was always coming up with grand ideas, with little projects or inventions that he wanted to chase, and Steve loved it. He loved that calm, happy, and wonderful side of Tony, which he didn’t think everyone got to see. Tony was intelligent and most often meant well, but sometimes (quite often actually) he was restless, and irritable, and that turned him more than a tad whiny and vindictive, and hard to placate.

It was usually in public, unfortunately, that Tony’s brattiness made an appearance, and although Steve would never comment on it out loud, he was almost certain it was a cry for attention, something he’d picked up during childhood. After all, screaming children were hard to ignore, and Tony was so often ignored.

Steve didn’t understand it, hated it really, that Howard brushed his son off so often, and that Maria was too focused on her own humanitarian efforts to pay consistent attention to him, but at the same time, it was okay. It just meant Tony could belong to Steve more completely.

Steve had lots of practice dealing with Tony’s less than respectable behavior, with his little games, but even he couldn’t always easily subdue the brunet’s defiant nature. Sometimes those chaste touches had to turn to something more, when Tony really tried his patience, like he was doing now.

Everything coming out of the brunet’s mouth was _awful_. He was spouting off one quip after another, with plenty of invasive questions and swear words to fill a book. Most of the party guests were giving him a wide berth, and the few that braved a conversation with Tony left feeling humiliated or scandalized. Tony’d had a bit to drink too. Not enough to be drunk, but enough that his shoulders had dropped casually, and that he didn’t seem to want to even _attempt_ to behave anymore.

Steve had warned him a few times already, but every time, those gorgeous, dark eyes would simply fill with defiance, with an invitation, and Steve had to shut his mouth and swallow hard to keep from taking it. He knew Tony was doing this on purpose. He knew the brat was going to get what he wanted, as he always did.

Tony and Steve were alone at the bar now, the guests sufficiently distracted by the live band starting up again after their break. The bartender had left to eat his dinner.

“Tony,” Steve hissed, for what seemed like the thousandth time tonight. He was started to get truly embarrassed now, after the last guest was sent packing with their proverbial tail between their legs. Steve thanked his lucky stars that Tony’s parents were preoccupied on the other side of the estate, or else things could have turned ugly for Tony pretty quick.

He didn’t seem worried about it though. He rarely was.

“What is it, Oh Captain, My Captain?”

Ugh. Steve hated how confident Tony was right now, how easily he was grinding Steve’s gears. He hated it because he _knew_ it was on purpose, knew Tony was doing this to get a rise out of him, to get what he _really_ wanted, which was namely, Steve in bed. Tony had made that much clear when it took him two hours to get ready for the party, because he thought it was a drag, and Steve refused to fuck him in the extravagant pool at the back of the house.

He pulled shit like this quite often, actually. He didn’t like to be told no, and although he’d never _force_ Steve into anything, he sure as hell (in his opinion) didn’t have to act happy about it when he didn’t get what he wanted. Because he was a brat. Steve didn’t always give in, didn’t want to encourage Tony’s bad behavior, (because let’s be honest, he had to learn at some point) but sometimes Tony won. What choice did Steve have right now? He couldn’t let Tony keep acting out. He was starting to make a scene, honestly, and that was the last thing any of them needed.

Steve frowned down at Tony, tried to stay calm, his jaw clenching. “Be. _Have_.”

Tony looked up at Steve, took in the sharp, warning glance in his eyes, the slight red on his cheeks. He smirked over the rim of his whiskey glass. He wouldn’t do anything _truly_ damning, had too much respect for his big beefy boyfriend for that, but he liked toeing the line, making Steve wonder how far he would truly go.

“Mmm, no. I don’t think I will,” he sighed, sounding somewhat bored, if Steve wasn’t familiar with the exact pitch of his voice when he was bored.

No, this wasn’t a bored Tony, this was a Tony who was absolutely _delighted_.

Steve tugged the glass from his hands, set it down on the bar. He crowded Tony, invaded his space in a way that made Steve feel huge, and that Tony, of course, _loved_. Steve loved it too, loved how small Tony looked in his grasp, loved that every inch of his beautiful body belonged to Steve, and that despite their age gap, Tony gave himself willingly, had claimed Steve for his own.

He really loved Tony, bratty behavior and all, but even Steve was reaching his limits tonight. He could feel irritation bubble up underneath his skin, made his suit feel hot and uncomfortable.

“You _will_ ,” Steve insisted. He looked around the room; no one was paying them any attention. His voice dipped a little lower, and he almost growled the words out. “Because you don’t wanna find out what’s gonna happen if you don’t.”

He could see the challenge forming in Tony’s mouth before he could even get the words out, saw the flash of excitement in his eyes.

Tony took in his surroundings, made sure no one was looking, and leaned up, let his tongue peek out of his plush lips just far enough to swipe over the strong pulse of Steve’s neck, in the way he knew Steve loved.

He drew back, rested his elbows on the bar behind him, and slowly shifted in his seat so his legs were spread in invitation. It was subtle enough that no one really noticed, but Steve sure fucking did, and a flash of arousal settled in his groin.

Tony tilted his head back, a truly self-satisfied grin on his face.

“You want me to behave? _Make me_.”

Well. Steve wasn’t one to step down from a challenge, and quite honestly, he was getting sick of the party anyway.

He stood up to his full height, squared his shoulders. “Get up,” he said, authority in his tone.

Tony’s eyes swept over his form appreciatively, and that tone of voice made a chill ripple down his spine. Oh he _loved_ when Steve got like that. Tony couldn’t let on how horny it was making him though, so he huffed in irritation instead, and slowly got to his feet. He quirked a brow, waited for Steve to give him another direction.

“Upstairs. Now,” Steve said, and locked a hand around Tony’s wrist.

Tony made a show of rolling his eyes, sighed dramatically, but followed Steve through the crowd and up the stairs. Steve was simmering, Tony knew, by the clench in his jaw. He was walking pretty fast too; Tony had to put in effort to keep up with his large strides. The hand around his wrist was tight, but not uncomfortable. Steve would never hurt Tony, no matter how irritated he was. Tony loved that. He loved that Steve knew his limits. He also was pretty sure Steve loved when he misbehaved, or else why would he stick around?

Tony grinned when Steve pulled him into his bedroom, and shut the door behind him, a little louder than necessary. Steve was too mad to care.

When Tony took a look at him, at the way his brows were tugged down and his lips were curled into a frown, the brunet couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” Steve demanded, and crossed his arms.

“You. It’s so cute how riled up you get,” Tony replied. He moved to lay a hand on Steve’s strong arms, but the soldier pulled away. Tony pouted a little.

“It’s not funny,” Steve said, and from the tone of his voice he meant it this time. “You _always_ do this. Why, huh? Need the whole damn world to pay attention to you, don’t you?”

Tony scoffed. “Yes, I do,” he said, as if it were obvious. He separated Steve’s arms and got close, linked his arms around Steve’s neck. God, Steve was so tall. Tony couldn’t even kiss him like this; he’d need to get on his toes to do it. Steve’s body was a warm brick wall against him, and Tony really wanted his clothes gone, really wanted to get a hand on the blond’s big cock, as he’d wanted for _hours_. He had to play the long game this time, but Tony was determined to have his way.

Steve wasn’t an idiot. He knew what Tony wanted, but he had half a mind not to give it to him, at least, not without a lesson. He gripped the brunet by the hips, looked down at him. “You’re such an attention slut,” he chided. He lifted a hand, lightly tugged at the curls on the back of Tony’s neck until his head fell back a little, and his neck was bared. “And a _brat_.”

Tony hummed a little, and his eyes fluttered. If anyone else said the words, he’d be offended, but when Steve said them, he loved it. “Well you love this fucking _brat_ ,” he retorted, rolled his hips against Steve’s groin.

“You can shut your mouth, or I’ll find something to fill it,” Steve growled, and the way Tony’s breath hitched sent heat straight to his cock. That was a fantastic idea, actually. Tony was always gagging for it, sometimes literally, and Steve didn’t think he could take any more of that smart mouth right now. Tony wanted to play? Fine.

“You think you can fill this mouth up?” Tony asked, as if he hadn’t in the past. Even in the 9th hour, he couldn’t help but push Steve further. “I’d like to see you try.”

That did it.

Steve spun him around, gave him a little shove (careful of his strength of course) towards the bed. “Get on the bed,” he ordered.

“’Get on the bed,’” Tony said mockingly, but kicked off his shoes—he wasn’t an animal—and climbed on his bed. It was pretty high up, conveniently the _perfect_ height to deepthroat Steve, and his mouth watered at the thought.

If Steve wanted that though, he’d have to tell Tony. The brunet, although already half hard, wanted Steve to work for it for making him wait so long. They could’ve already fucked, and be laying in bed blissed out by now, but _no_. They had to be presentable at another one of his father’s stupid parties, surrounded by people that Tony couldn’t give two fucks about, and that he never wanted to see again. Jarvis was on vacation, and had been for the last two weeks, and Rhodey was away with the Air Force, so Steve was honestly the only person Tony could bear to spend more than five seconds around. Could he be blamed for wanting a slice of gorgeous, All-American pie?

Before he had time to adjust on the bed, he could feel the soldier’s big hands on his backside, and Steve tugged his hips up. “On your knees,” he growled, and for once, Tony obliged.

“Ooh, what are you gonna do, daddy? Punish me?” the brunet taunted, swaying his hips a little. Steve let out a sharp exhale, and it made Tony smirk. That nickname always did something to Steve, and it did something to Tony too, felt so wrong, but so _right_ , got them both worked up that much more.

Steve didn’t trust himself to speak for a moment, and instead drew back, and brought the palm of his hand against Tony’s ass with an audible _smack_.

Tony jumped, his heart rate shooting up. “Oh,” he whispered, heat blooming across his skin, even through the fabric of his slacks. It didn’t hurt, per se, but it stung a little, in the best way.

“How many times have you misbehaved tonight?” Steve asked behind him, voice low and commanding.

Tony shuddered, tried to think of a concrete number. He ran through the faces in his head of people he’d humiliated, and settled on a number. “Fifteen,” he replied. He had the decency to sound a little ashamed now.

Steve leaned low over him, his body a warm barrier keeping Tony sandwiched between him and the bed. “Then you get fourteen more of those,” he said, and it was a statement, not a question.

That was fine by Tony. Fuck, he’d take whatever Steve gave him, and do it without complaint. Steve always knew just how far he could push, never seemed to cross Tony’s boundaries, even without asking for them. He loved that. He loved that there was this mutual understanding between them, that they didn’t always need words to communicate. Tony understood that Steve intended on teaching him a lesson tonight, and honestly? He was eager to learn it.

The blond seemed to pause, maybe waiting for Tony to tell him to stop, but he did no such thing. The brunet squirmed under him a little, sunk further into the bed submissively.

Steve straightened, ran his hands down Tony’s flanks.

“Count,” he said simply, and drew back, let his hand contact with Tony’s ass again.

The brunet groaned a little, exhaled sharply. “One.”

By the time he whimpered out “Fourteen,” his ass was on fire and his cock hard and leaking in his pants. He had tried to grind down against the bed a few times already, to relieve the pressure, to get some sense of pleasure, but Steve wasn’t having it. He’d pinned Tony down with a firm hand on the small of his back, all dominant, all business as he spanked his bratty boyfriend.

“That’s fifteen,” Steve said, voice low as Tony took in harsh breaths. He ran his hands down the brunet’s ass, massaged his round cheeks. He knew if he pulled Tony’s pants down they’d be red now, and the thought filled him with satisfaction.

Tony was already significantly less mouthy than downstairs, had apparently remembered who was _really_ in charge here. Good. The soldier still hadn’t forgiven him for his behavior, and wasn’t going to reward Tony with an orgasm for quite a while. His own cock was begging for attention though, tenting the fabric of his pants, and Steve knew just what to do about it.

“Turn around and lay on your back,” he said.

“What’s if I don’t wanna?” Tony challenged, shooting him a dirty look. There wasn’t any heat to it.

“Then I guess you won’t get to cum tonight,” Steve replied with a shrug.

Tony settled on his side, scoffed a little. He grinned, brushed his toes against the bulge of Steve’s slacks. “I do have two perfectly good hands, and _plenty_ of toys. Who says I need you to get off?”

The soldier caught his foot, dragged Tony down the bed a little. Tony couldn’t help but let out a laugh, and Steve rolled his eyes, though had to hide a smile of his own. “What’s if I tie your little hands up?” Steve asked. “What’s if I lock that pretty cock of yours up so you can’t touch yourself?”

Steve didn’t actually intend to fulfill that threat(Tony wasn’t a fan of actually being restrained like that, preferred to imagine it in the safety of his mind), but it didn’t matter, because the implication was enough for Tony. His cheeks went a little pink, and his eyes got darker. The thought of Steve having control over him like that, owning every inch of him, including his pleasure, was too fucking hot.

For once, Tony didn’t know what to say, and that made him frown.

“That’s what I thought,” Steve replied, amused with his partner’s silence. He let Tony’s leg fall to the bed again, and slid his hands up the length of the brunet’s body. The silk of his suit felt wonderful beneath his fingertips. “Take off your jacket and tie,” he said.

Tony did without complaint. Funny how he could always listen, always behave, when they were in bed. It was fucking frustrating that he was so defiant in other cases.

Steve watched with reverent eyes as Tony removed his garments, took pleasure in the way the deep crimson of his tie swept across his neck as he pulled it off.

Tony, of course, ever observant, noticed.

“You get off on this,” he accused, brows knit in a pout. “Ordering me around.”

“I do,” Steve replied with a nod, smiling a little. He leaned over the bed, grazed his teeth against the brunet’s neck. “And so do you. That’s why you’re such a brat, isn’t it? Can’t survive without me punishing you, pinning you down and fucking you into the sheets.”

Tony moaned. For all of Steve’s respectable daytime attitude, he had a dirty mouth. Tony was sure he’d picked it up during the war, with his old war buddies, who were now _actually_ old, but that didn’t matter. All he knew was that he liked it, and Steve was way too good at using it.

He would resent being called a brat though, even if he knew it was true. “I’m not a brat,” he insisted, reached up to yank at Steve’s tie.

Steve caught his hand. “ _Brat_ ,” he replied, and kissed his knuckles.

He did it so tenderly that Tony’s heart skipped a beat. Fine. He could play dirty too. “If I’m a brat, then what does that say about you? What would everyone say if they knew that goody-two-shoes Captain America likes to fuck bratty little rich boys? What’s if they knew that he liked sticking his cock down his friend’s son’s throat?”

Steve dropped Tony’s hand, and a familiar flash of irritation settled in the blue of his eyes. He pulled back a little, but Tony followed, got up on his knees so he could chase Steve, locked his arms around his neck.

“What’s if they knew that you like to _punish_ your bratty little rich boy? If they knew how happy you are, how you sound when I bounce on your big dick?”

Jesus. Steve’s face was warm, and he was sure his skin had gone red by now. Tony was good at reaching for the upper hand, knew just what to say and do, but Steve, every inch as stubborn as the brunet, wouldn’t give it to him. “I told you to shut your mouth, or I’d find something to fill it,” he said, pulling Tony away from him.

Tony smirked. “And _I_ told _you_ ‘I’d like to see you try.’”

“Turn around and lay on your back like I fuckin’ told you to,” Steve replied, and tugged loose his own tie. It was getting kind of warm in the room, hot really.

Tony could feel a ripple of anticipation flow through him, and it led him to action. He knew exactly where this was going. Tony flipped on his back, squared his shoulders with the edge of his bed and let his head tip back over the edge. His ass was still kind of sensitive, and his cock hard, and it took a lot of effort not to reach down and simply jerk himself off. He was getting horny enough for it. The part of him that thrived on praise, and feared disappointing his boyfriend kept his hands still. Steve was always sweet after teaching him a lesson, and he would call him beautiful names and say how good he was, give him the validation that he so rarely got from his parents. Jarvis had always been kind enough to provide it, but, well, it wasn’t enough.

Steve really shouldn’t have rewarded Tony’s bad behavior, because how would he ever learn? But he simply couldn’t deny Tony. He loved him too much.

The soldier brushed a large hand over the length of Tony’s throat, soft and low. He could feel Tony’s pulse there, heightened, and saw the way the brunet squirmed a little on the bed.

“Always eager,” he commented, voice quiet.

“Just for you,” Tony replied, and he meant it.

Steve’s gaze turned soft for a moment, and warmth spread in his chest. He pushed it down, remembered why he was here. He unzipped his pants, freed his erection from its confines. “Open that big mouth of yours,” he said. “The only thing it’s good for is warming my cock.”

He didn’t think that was true, of course, but he liked the way Tony whimpered a little when he said it, like he always did. Tony licked his lips and opened his mouth obediently, suddenly perfectly well behaved, unlike he’d been downstairs. Typical.

The blond stroked his length a little, let the head rest against Tony’s plush lips. Tony couldn’t help but slide his tongue against the head, his mouth watering at the taste of pre-cum, but Steve drew back.

“Don’t move,” he said.

“’Don’t move,’ he says. How am I supposed to stay still with you waving your dick around my face? I want it,” Tony replied, the end of his phrase turning into a whine.

“This isn’t about what you want, Tony. Maybe it would be if you’d acted your age tonight,” Steve stated, his words firm. He dragged a hand through Tony’s dark hair.

Tony had another quip lined up, but then Steve was feeding him his cock, and his mouth got kind of busy. It slid in, inch by inch, taking him, filling him, _claiming_ him, as it did every time, big enough to stretch his jaw, to make breathing difficult, and Tony loved it. Steve drew back before the tip hit Tony’s throat, and he let him adjust his breathing. The way the brunet’s eyes fluttered, and how his fingers tightened on the bed sheets made it really difficult to restrain himself, but he managed.

“That’s good,” Steve sighed, took a second to collect himself. “So good.” He rolled his hips forward experimentally, and when Tony relaxed around him, he started fucking his mouth. His pace wasn’t slow, but wasn’t all that fast either. He took his time, savored the wet heat around his cock, the way Tony made room for it.

When the brunet let out a moan that vibrated around his length, Steve knew it was time to get to work, and he pressed forward, and forward, reached down to adjust Tony’s head a little, and suddenly, the head of his cock slipped down Tony’s throat.

Tony really couldn’t take it anymore. His hand flew up to unzip his pants. He _needed_ to get off, needed to relieve that ache in his core, the desperate heat in his body. There was something about taking Steve’s dick that drove him wild, and if he waited any longer to get off, he thought he’d die.

“ _Don’t_ touch yourself,” Steve snapped, his hips nudged forward for emphasis. He slid a little further down Tony’s throat, groaned, and pulled back, relished in the way the brunet’s hand smacked down against the bed in a fist, irritated, but obedient. “Fuck, that’s it…”

No more playing around now. Steve pressed forward as far as he could go, and Tony’s throat spasmed around him, Steve’s cock carving out a path that cut off his airway. For an instant, a pang of fear went through Tony’s body, and his eyes snapped open to look up at his boyfriend. But he knew Steve, trusted Steve, and knew the blond would never hurt him.

“Lie there and take it,” the soldier said. “Take my cock like a good boy.”

Tony was deathly still as Steve held his length there in his throat, just held it, like Tony was nothing more than a sleeve, a comfy hole to warm his dick. Tony couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t care to really, and didn’t until his lungs started burning a little, and he felt lightheaded. His eyes rolled back a little, and he squirmed on the bed. Steve didn’t pull out though.

Tony could hear his heatbeat in his ears, fought the urge to pull back, to slide off of Steve’s cock. He wanted to be good, wanted to hold out until Steve told him he could stop, until Steve _let_ him breathe, but it was so hard. He really didn’t think he could take it anymore, and for an instant wondered if Steve was _actually_ punishing him, if this whole thing had turned malicious, and suddenly he regretted acting out tonight. The seconds crawled by, and it felt like an eternity. Tony thought he was going to pass out.

A desperate little whimper left his throat, and he squeezed his eyes shut, but that was when Steve pulled out abruptly, let Tony take a full, heaving breath.

His head swam, and he pulled his arms up to wipe the tears that had formed at the edges of his eyes, but then Steve was tilting his head back again. “Open up,” he said, and Tony did without hesitation, and the whole thing started over again.

Steve kept sliding into his throat (Four? Five times?), suffocating him, pushing to the edge, and letting him float back down, in a way that was entirely too much but not enough at all, that just made him more desperate and eager, turned him into a whiny, pliable mess. _Steve_ had the upper hand now, like he always did in bed, and he made good use of it. He ran a hand down Tony’s throat, took in the bulge of his cock visible through it, _felt_ the protrusion under his strong fingers. It filled him with possessive heat, and suddenly, this lesson was taking too long to teach.

He pulled back, opted to fuck Tony’s mouth instead, and Tony seemed just as eager for it, slid his tongue against Steve’s shaft, tried his best to keep up with the brutal but controlled pace that Steve set. His hands fell up over the edge of the bed, fingers twisting in the fabric of Steve’s pants, lacking the coordination they usually did, but _fuck_. It was a little hard to think, presently, except for how he wanted more, how he wanted Steve to fill him, to take him, to _use_ him. He was so hard, wanted to get off so bad, but knew he wouldn’t be allowed to until Steve did, until _Steve_ decided, and it felt so unfair, but perfectly fair, like he deserved it, for being a brat, and he did.

Steve kept thrusting and _thrusting_ , fucking his mouth until it was a sloppy, wet mess, and he could feel himself climbing over that peak, his cock twitching as it slid in and out of Tony’s pliant mouth. “Shit, oh, I’m—I’m gonna—“

The blond let out a groan as he came, let the bulk of it flood Tony’s mouth, which the brunet dutifully swallowed, but pulled back at the last second, let the last drops of cum land on his face.

Tony’s long lashes fluttered as his cheeks were painted sticky white, and he could do little more than stare up, dazed, into Steve’s pleased face. His hair was disheveled, bangs sweeping down over his forehead and his blue eyes were deep, intense. The light fixture behind him bathed him in luminescence like a halo, and yeah, that made sense, because Steve was a fucking angel sent down to Tony.

Steve brushed a hand over his pink lips, plush and swollen, and scooped up the cum splattered on his face, brought it to Tony’s lips.

“You learned your lesson yet?” he asked, though he sounded breathless, and his face was flushed.

Tony licked the cum from his fingers, but huffed at his words. He’d initially felt a little floaty, and it took a few seconds to gather his thoughts, but then his attitude came back.

“Have I learned my lesson?” he asked, voice rough, huskier, from the delicious abuse his throat had suffered. “Gee, I don’t know Steve! I was kind of too busy trying not to pass out to absorb anything,” he said dramatically. “If you wanted to choke me to death, you should’ve done it immediately, instead of leaving me with a year-long hard on.”

“Still so mouthy,” Steve complained. “If you’re still good enough to talk back to me, then I guess we’re not done.”

The brunet scoffed, swung an arm over his eyes. His shirt sleeve ended up wiping the left over mess on his face, but that didn’t matter. He’d already practically sweat through the garment, and something told him he wouldn’t be needing it very soon.

“Get on the bed properly,” Steve ordered.

Tony shook his head under his arm, used it to hide his defiant grin. “No.”

He expected Steve to have a good retort, but instead all he heard was a sharp, annoyed exhale, and suddenly Tony was being lifted off the bed, turned around, and his back was pressed against the pillows. Steve was on top of him, his cock still hanging out of his pants, already valiantly getting hard again, and Tony’s heart caught in his throat.

“Fuck,” he gasped, drinking in the view.

“Take your clothes off,” Steve said, and there was something in his gaze, maybe a lack of patience now, that managed to shut Tony up.

He licked his lips, tried not to let on how shaky his breathing actually was, and got to work on the buttons of his dress shirt. Steve shuffled back on the bed, sat on his haunches to watch. Now, Tony was rarely self conscious where other people were involved, but when Steve was watching him like this, so intensely, it made Tony feel sort of nervous, despite the fact that he had essentially given Steve a show every day since the first time they met. This was just different, and for a second Tony thought of Steve’s strength, of the restrained power in his gorgeous body, and how if Steve were less kind, less caring, Tony would truly be at his mercy.

He felt his cock jump, and stripped his clothes quickly, desperate to at least remove it from the terrible confine of his pants. His underwear was practically soaked with pre-cum at this point, and Steve definitely noticed, if the way his eyes raked over Tony’s form were any indication.

“Aren’t you gonna take your clothes off too?” Tony asked when he was naked, stretched out bare on the bed.

“Nope,” Steve replied.

“But I wanna see you,” Tony insisted. “I wanna touch you.”

“Bad boys don’t get to touch,” the blond said. “I told you, this isn’t about what you want.”

Tony didn’t want to take that for an answer. He knit his brows together, sat up. “Please? Come on, Steve. I was just having some fun.”

“No, Tony. You can’t keep making a fool of everybody. First, you made a big deal about even _going_ to the party, and then you were intent on ruining it, acted like a little kid just to get back at me, or at your dad, or something else. I don’t know. I never know with you. All I know is you better _stop_ , because it’s starting to get real old. I don’t like fucking snotty little teenagers.”

“I’m _not_ a teenager,” Tony snapped, and he could feel irritation seep into his bones. Steve matched it.

“Well you sure act like one, and I don’t think I should be rewarding you for it anymore. In fact, I changed my mind. I think we’re done tonight,” Steve said, moving to get off the bed.

“No!” the brunet gasped. God, he was going to lose his fucking _mind_ if he didn’t cum tonight, if Steve left him here like this.

“No?” Steve echoed. “Fine. Then you’re gonna do exactly what I say, and if you break the rules, I won’t touch you again for a week.”

“You couldn’t last a week without sticking your dick in me,” Tony replied, eyes narrowing.

That may have been true, but Steve had never particularly _tried_. He was willing to try now, if it meant Tony’s behavior would improve. He arched a brow, lifted his chin. “You wanna bet?”

Tony frowned at him, but dropped his eyes. “Fine. I’ll listen,” he said. _‘Seriously. Anything to get off right now,’_ he thought.

“Good,” Steve replied, and he leaned forward to brush a gentle hand through Tony’s hair.

“Kiss me?” Tony asked softly. He wasn’t sure Steve would indulge him right now but he wanted it, needed it.

The blond crawled forward a little, braced a warm hand on Tony’s neck and brought their lips together. He kissed Tony slowly, softly, and the brunet melted against him, closed his fingers around the lapels of Steve’s jacket, arched into his hold.

Steve deepened the kiss, let his tongue delve into Tony’s mouth, lick at his teeth, and Tony sighed into it a little, let himself be swept up by it, until Steve pulled back, his hands firm on Tony’s arms.

“Turn around, and lay down.”

Tony did just so.

Steve’s hands were heavy and warm on his bare skin, sliding down his shoulders and settling on his ass. Tony buried his face in the plush pillows, his heart in his throat, and let out a little gasp as Steve dragged his hips back and up, got his knees under him. He spread Tony’s cheeks, a breath ghosting over his entrance, and the brunet shuddered.

“Don’t cum,” Steve said softly, but he meant it.

“Oh jesus,” Tony muttered into the bed. This _wouldn’t_ be easy.

It wasn’t easy. On a regular day, it wouldn’t be easy, but when Tony was a few strokes away from blowing his load, like he’d been for the last _twenty minutes_ , it was extremely hard. Steve used his tongue well, always did, got him sloppy and wet and shuddering. More than once Tony’s hips dropped to the bed when his knees gave out, and he tried to chase the friction of the mattress to relieve his aching cock, but Steve would just pull him back up, hold him there, and Tony had no choice but to take it, to take his teasing licks and pointed thrusts inward.

Tony was silent as long as he managed, but Steve didn’t accept that, alternated between tongue fucking him and teasing him, even dipped his head to run the flat of his tongue against the brunet’s balls and the base of his shaft, and that was when his boyfriend truly lost it.

“ _Steve_!” he whined, almost a sob, and jerked in the soldier’s grasp. “Ugh, I can’t! I can’t, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna—!”

Steve pulled back, grazed his teeth against the flesh of Tony’s ass. “No you’re not,” he said simply. “Because I told you not to. You wouldn’t want to misbehave again, would you?”

Tony bit his lip, squeezed his eyes shut. “No,” he replied, because it was the truth. He _didn_ ’ _t_ want to disappoint Steve, not really. He hoped he’d never disappoint Steve, ever. He knew Steve didn’t particularly like Tony’s way of having fun, the way he behaved at his father’s parties, but he obviously tolerated it, or else this whole thing would be going differently. Steve was in charge here, but he knew Tony was enjoying it, despite how frustrating it was. He knew they both needed it this way, that negotiations made in bed were more reliable than those while clothed(at least in their case.) It was always when Tony was coming undone like this that he could be persuaded easier, that his confidence took a step back and left him more malleable.

“Please, sweetheart,” he said.

“I think you can hold out a little longer, can’t you? Take the time to think about what you’ve done? I haven’t even fucked you yet,” the blond replied, and brushed a thumb against Tony’s rim.

Tony pushed back immediately, tried to get Steve to touch him properly. “Fuck me,” he said. “Fuck me _right now_ , oh _god_ daddy—“

“I need to stretch you first,” Steve replied, and though Tony couldn’t see his face, he could hear the amusement in Steve’s tone. Of course he was enjoying this, the bastard. Steve thought it was perfectly fair to have Tony a shaking, begging mess now. After all, that was what he wanted all along, wasn’t it? He was just giving Tony exactly what he asked for.

“Fuck it, don’t stretch, just—I need—“ Tony couldn’t even finish his sentence. He let out a groan of frustration, rocked back against Steve’s firm grip. He really should get stretched, because Steve was just fucking big, but then again, he already felt loose, knew his hole would open right up for him, let him sink in to the hilt. The quicker Steve got in him, the quicker Tony would get to cum. He would deal with the burn later.

“You’re so impatient, always trying to get what you want,” Steve chided, but pulled away. He shuffled over on the bed, and reached into the nightstand for the bottle of lube. “You want to take me without prep? I better not hear you complaining when you do.”

Tony shot him a mean glance over his shoulder, and for a second his confidence faltered, but no. He didn’t want to go back on it now. “I can take it.”

Steve popped open the bottle, drizzled plenty of lube over Tony’s hole, and more on his cock. He slicked up the length, held himself loosely in a fist. “We’ll see,” he replied. He could still speak in an even voice, but that had just come with practice. He was just as eager as Tony to get to it now, wanted to tumble over the edge again, to feel the brunet clench around him.

Tony was especially pliant tonight, desperate for it, and Steve loved it. He wanted him, so bad, wanted to claim him, to possess him, body and soul. He would die for Tony, if he had to, but gladly settled for being able to touch him.

“Hurry up,” Tony said breathlessly, dug his fingers into the blankets. His cock was _throbbing_ , and at this rate, he wasn’t sure he could even fit Steve in all the way before he came.

“Shh,” Steve replied, tone soft. He gripped Tony’s hip with one hand, and used his other to line up the tip of his cock. “You just worry about staying relaxed and open. If I can’t get in, then we’re not doing it at all tonight.”

The thought of Steve stopping now, with the hot blunt tip of his dick pressed against Tony’s hole was nightmarish. “You’re a real bastard, you know that?” the brunet said.

“You’re one to talk,” Steve sighed, shifting forward a little. “Now relax.”

To his credit, Tony tried to relax. He really did. He took a deep breath, bit his lip when Steve pushed in, and in. He groaned a little, brows knit at the sudden stretch, just the right side of too big, until it was actually too big, and he hesitated. “Steve…”

“You can do it,” his boyfriend replied, slipping into his sweet, soft voice, without the heat of irritation.

Tony didn’t know if it was better or worse. He always fell apart so easily when Steve treated him kindly, when he handled Tony like he was precious, like he was worth more than the world. But god, Steve was just so big. Tony tensed up a little now, debated calling it off, but held out, wanted to take it, wanted to prove that he could, and then before he knew it, the head of Steve’s cock was in.

“Oh, shit,” Tony gasped, voice wavering. He dropped his head forward.

“Fuck, that’s it…”

Steve’s hands were hot against Tony’s skin, but it was nothing against the heat that consumed him when the blond kept _pushing_ , filling him inch by inch. It burned, it really did, not enough to truly hurt, but enough to leave Tony whimpering.

Steve pitched forward a few inches without warning, slid against his prostate and Tony took in a sharp breath. “W-wait! _Oh_ god…”

“You asked for it,” Steve replied, and Tony could feel the way he shrugged his shoulders with it. “I wanted to take it slow, but you said you could handle it.”

“It’s not my fault you’re hung like a horse!” the brunet snapped back, and let out a sharp whine as Steve pushed in further again. Tony opened up around him, had no choice really, Steve’s cock filling him up and spreading him wide like his ass belonged to it.

“Typical,” Steve grit out, his hands a vice around Tony’s hips as the brunet shuddered in his grasp, torn between scooting up the bed to get away from the intrusion or driving himself back further on Steve’s cock.

“You always talk a big game, but when it comes down to it, you’re just a little brat who can’t take what he dishes out.”

“’M—not a brat,” the brunet whimpered, and dropped to his elbows. It was too hard to keep himself up on hands and knees. He was shaking too much for it.

Steve had been expecting it. He knew it was coming. “You are,” Steve replied, dipping his hands beneath Tony’s chest. He pulled Tony up carefully, leaned back a little, and Tony sank down the last few inches of his shaft. Steve let out a low groan, held the brunet still by the hips as they both adjusted. It was damn overwhelming, and so, so _good_.

“Oh jesus, _fuck_ Steve—“

“I know,” Steve moaned. Suddenly, he regretted not taking his clothes off—the room felt a thousand degrees warm. But there was something satisfying about being clothed while Tony was completely naked, so he didn’t complain. He was seconds away from coming himself, honestly. Tony was tight, tighter than usual, a hot vice around his lube-slicked cock, and the way he was panting only made Steve hotter. It was so good. It was so good it was hard to _breathe_.

Steve managed though, after a few seconds, and slowly rocked his hips. It sent a flash of pleasure through Tony’s whole body, and he knew he’d cum as soon as Steve truly started thrusting into him.

“I can’t, I can’t,” Tony insisted, tossed his head back against Steve’s shoulder. His hands flailed a moment, unsure of what to do, how to subdue the rush of pleasure, and he almost toppled forward, but Steve braced a hand across his stomach, held him steady.

“You better. I told you, you can’t cum until I tell you to.”

The brunet thought he was going to lose his mind. He was truly regretting his behavior now, didn’t think he could take much more of this, this perfect torture, this taste of his own medicine, which he so clearly deserved. “Come on!” he complained. “If you fucking move I’m gonna cum, seriously—“

“You asked for this,” Steve reminded him, using his other hand to lift Tony’s thigh a little higher. He eased back on the bed, so Tony was practically laying on top of him, helplessly pinned on his cock. He managed to sound nonchalant, but his face was flushed red, and his breathing unsteady. “If you had just behaved…” he gave a little thrust, pressed directly against Tony’s prostate.

Tony’s hands flew up to his face to keep from touching himself. He let out a groan, half frustration, half despair. Every inch of him felt like it was on fire, like he was seconds away from falling apart. It made him kind of emotional in a way he didn’t expect, intense and full-bodied, and he’d finally had enough.

“I’m sorry!” he sighed, slumped back against Steve’s chest. “I’m sorry I acted like that, I’m sorry I’m always acting like that, I just—oh fuck, I-I just like to…it makes me feel good to do it,” Tony admitted, sounding wrecked.

That was what Steve had been waiting for this whole time, for Tony to admit his faults, admit that he should do better. This wasn’t the first time they’d been through this, but maybe this time, the lesson would stick. God, he was so stubborn. It took all of this for him to say those few words.

Steve loved his stubbornness though; it matched his own. Despite their obvious differences, they were quite similar in a lot of ways, and it took close inspection and countless hours shared between them to realize it. He loved Tony, faults and all, loved that he was here right now, that he had this power over his boyfriend, this _trust_. Only he knew Tony like this, and only he could get him to speak out, to admit things about himself he didn’t want to believe were true.

“I know,” Steve sighed, a hint of fondness seeping into the exhausted tone of his voice. “But you need to _stop_ , Tony. You hear me?”

“I’ll stop, I’ll stop, I promise, just let me cum, please Steve? I can’t fucking take it anymore, I really can’t,” Tony replied, and his voice was so sweet, so earnest, that Steve couldn’t really deny him anymore.

“You cum when you want, sweetheart, but I’m not gonna stop until I’m done.”

That was fair enough. Tony nodded, and shifted a little, and Steve took over from there. He took a breath, snapped his hips up, _hard_ , setting a rough, punishing pace that pummeled Tony’s prostate, had him squirming and moaning uncontrollably in a matter of seconds. Steve wasn’t far behind.

“God, l-listen to you,” he gasped, slipping the hand on Tony’s chest down to his other thigh, spreading his legs wide. “Such a slut. Quick to talk back, until you’re on my cock. Can’t talk back now, c-can you?” he grit out against Tony’s ear.

“Ahh! Yes, yeah, your slut,” Tony mumbled, eyes squeezed shut. He felt impossibly horny, desperate, and humiliated in the best way. “All yours, daddy!”

Tony thought he was dying, honestly. Steve was all around him, _in_ him, splitting him open, filling him so much, and fuck, it felt so good. His heart beat was thundering in his ears, and every inch of him felt like it was on fire, like he was going to shatter, and Steve didn’t let up. He just kept _fucking_ him, kept going like it didn’t even matter that Tony was going to come apart at the seams in seconds, like Tony was just his to use, just a warm hole, and that? Well, that was _amazing_. If it were anyone else, the thought was less than appealing, but Tony knew that no matter what Steve said or did in the bedroom, he did love him, did care for him, and that he was truly indulging Tony, and the dark, kinky side that had awoken in him pretty much as soon as he was old enough to think about it, and he loved that.

He loved _Steve_ , more than words could tell.

Steve’s words drove Tony over the edge, and the tide of pleasure swept through him so quick, like lightning, that he didn’t have time to do anything but let out a shout as he came all over himself, jerked and clenched down on Steve’s dick.

Steve’s face twisted into a satisfied smile, but it was short-lived. Tony clenching around him felt sinfully good, and now he went lax, and Steve could fuck him deeper. He managed a few more sharp thrusts, until it was too much, and in a matter of seconds, he was following Tony over the edge, fingers pressing bruises into those pretty tanned thighs as his cock pumped him full of cum.

“Uhn, _oh_ , T-Tony…!”

The brunet in question could barely think straight, let alone open his mouth and talk right now. Every inch of him was throbbing, overwhelmingly satisfied, and exhausted. He let out a little moan, brought an arm over his eyes as Steve dumped his load, gave a few more thrusts, and slumped against the bed. His cock slid out, and cum dribbled out after it, slid down the back of Tony’s legs.

The brunet shuddered at the sensation. He felt utterly destroyed, knew that he’d be aching for a few hours, but god was it worth it.

Neither could say anything for at least a minute. They laid there, breathing heavily, heads reeling from the intensity of it all. It’d been a while since they went that hard, and it had clearly affected them both. Steve couldn’t believe what Tony had done to him, how he’d driven him wild once again, and Tony, as every time, was simply astounded at the way Steve could make him feel. It was a lot to process.

Eventually the blond managed to say something, but the words turned to mush in Tony’s ears. He felt soft, dazed, and utterly complete, eyes unfocused as they gazed up at the ceiling. “Hmm?” he asked, his skin tingling where Steve’s big hands ran down his side comfortingly.

Steve let out a little huff of laughter. It shook his chest, and Tony with it. “I said ‘Are you okay’?”

The brunet finally managed to regain control of his limbs and slowly turned over, rested his head on Steve’s shoulder, ignorant of the mess between them, and swung a leg over Steve’s. “I’m so fucking good,” he said, the words slow and drawn out.

“Good,” Steve replied. He brought a hand up, brushed his fingers gently through Tony’s sweaty curls, and shifted a few moments later, prepared to get up. His clothes were practically ruined at this point. He’d have to send Tony over to his room for new clothes. “But we’re kind of gross, and we forgot to lock the door.”

Tony jolted at that. He was sure no one would come in, at least not without knocking and waiting, but the thought that they could be caught, that someone could walk in and find them, tangled together on the bed and covered in cum, the evidence of what they’d just been up to crystal clear, was equal parts terrifying and enticing.

People knew about them, he was sure. More than once someone had hinted at it, retaliation for a diss on Tony’s part, or an empty threat. Tony wasn’t ashamed of course. Who could be, when their partner was Steve? Part of him wanted to flaunt their relationship, to let the whole world know Steve was his. Fuck, he’d let Steve make love to him in front of a whole city, if the blond asked. He also knew their private activities were best left private though, that it was better to keep quiet, or some problems could come around.

Tony knew the importance of keeping things on the down low, despite the little risks he took from time to time, like he had tonight when no one was looking, or the time he’d given Steve a handjob under the brunch table, or the time Steve sucked a hickey onto his neck, hidden behind the curtains in the drawing room, just barely under the hem of his turtleneck sweater, or the time Steve—

Tony lost his train of thought.

The point was, it was better to keep it all to themselves, lest his father managed to take a closer look at them and realize what had been going on under his nose all this time.

Part of him wanted to come out and admit it, to throw it in Howard’s face that he and Steve were together, but he was honestly terrified of it, and what it could mean. What would Howard say? What would he do? Tony thought his mother might be more understanding, had surely seen the lovesick look in Tony’s eyes whenever he was around Steve, and they happened to be in the same room together, but Howard? Everything Tony did seemed to disappoint him. Maybe this would too. But maybe it wouldn’t, because he admired Steve so much, had honestly been a little obsessed with finding him during Tony’s childhood, and the brunet wasn’t sure if Howard’s approval would make it all better or worse.

He preferred not to find out.

Steve understood thankfully, and never considered forcing Tony to breach the topic. It made him a little nervous too, not for himself, but for Tony. If his parents decided to cut him off, to punish him somehow for the way they felt about each other, Steve had very little to offer him. He worried about it, sometimes. He would do his best to take care of Tony, naturally, but was concerned that he wouldn’t be able to make him happy, that he would have to settle, to live without the beautiful, expensive things he was so used to. Steve thought Tony deserved the world, and never wanted him to go without.

Yes, it was better to keep it all to themselves. After all, he knew Tony belonged to him, and that was good enough. No one else had to know. They were left alone often enough that it didn’t really matter if anyone else knew or not. They could spend plenty time together, unbothered, and additionally, there were always places to hide, if their enthusiasm outweighed their patience.

They didn’t want to push their luck though, with the door unlocked. Tony knew he had to get up, that he couldn’t stay like this, even if he was loathe to move. His limbs felt like jelly, and he was plenty sleepy, but sleeping like this, all sticky and disgusting, wasn’t ideal.

“Okay,” Tony sighed, and rolled off of Steve and onto the bed. “You can go ahead and clean me up,” he added, stifling a yawn.

Steve scoffed at that. He turned and braced his hands on either side of Tony’s face, leaned down low. “You can clean yourself up, princess.”

“Are you kidding me? You just fucked my brains out. It’s _your_ job to clean this mess.”

The blond rolled his eyes, but lowered himself the last few inches, brushed his lips against the brunet’s. He kissed Tony softly, a quick, chaste kiss, and drew back. “You’re such a brat,” he sighed.

“ _Your_ brat,” Tony replied, reaching up to wrap his arms around Steve’s neck. He said the words with more than a hint of satisfaction.

Steve smiled, gazed down at him fondly. “My brat,” he agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! Leave a comment with your thoughts!!


	2. Go Ahead And Cry, Little Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Steve's out shopping, Howard hurts Tony, leaving an unfortunate reminder of his authority before he leaves for his business trip. Steve does everything he can to comfort Tony, to make him feel good again. Daddy issues are a hell of a thing, but so is having a kind and wonderful boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off I adore the song Daddy Issues by The Neighborhood. It inspired the title.
> 
> I told myself I'd never put H*ward on screen because I hate his guts, but I really wanted to dive into this topic, to let out some of my own irl frustration. Don't worry, my father's never hit me, but the emotional aspect, the distance and sense of disappointment is definitely there. I ended up crying about it at work last week LOL. So here's a little thought dump in the form of a story that I'm sure plenty of people can relate to. Luckily Tony's got his Steve to make it all better <3

“Okay, baby, come sit on my lap,” Steve said softly. He was sitting on his bed, back to the headboard. His white cotton shirt was already half unbuttoned—it was hot today—and his jeans were rolled up past his ankles. He looked horribly attractive, as usual, and Tony had no problem following his direction.

Tony took a deep breath. His face was still warm and kind of blotchy from his tears, and his nose was a little stuffed. The bruises pressed into his forearm, compliments from his father, stung, and would for a few days probably. Tony didn’t hesitate to crawl forward on the bed though, drop himself on Steve’s lap. He pressed a cheek to Steve’s shoulder, took a few harsh breaths when the blond’s hands settled on his back, his touch gentle and grounding.

He felt awful. He felt angry, and embarrassed, and hurt.

Steve hadn’t been in the villa when Howard called Tony into his office, shoving a rather expensive bill in the brunet’s face. Tony had been…a little adventurous in his spending, in preparation of his next inventor’s endeavor, and his father was clearly less than supportive. The stock numbers had been falling lately, and there seemed to be a lull in production on Howard’s part, and he clearly couldn’t stomach any more disappointments, was getting overwhelmed, and it depleted his already tiny reserve of patience that much further. He drank more, not just at the parties he was hosting, but pretty much all the time, and he was always in a foul mood, his lips twisted in a tight, unpleasant line, his brows furrowed.

Howard had never really been a pleasure to be around, at least in Tony’s eyes, but it just seemed to get worse with each passing month. Maria spent as much time away as possible, was tired of her husband’s horrible behavior, didn’t seem to have the strength to deal with it, even for the sake of her _son_ , which left Steve and Tony alone for the most part, and, unfortunately, left Tony the subject of his ire, the scapegoat for his pent up frustration. Howard would never do or say anything horrible about Tony in Steve’s presence of course, because he didn’t want anyone to know just how shitty of a father he was, but when they were alone, like this morning, anything was fair game.

Howard couldn’t really stand his son, for whatever reason, and was always disappointed in him, and he’d said as much when he yelled at Tony, slammed a fist down on his desk and raised his voice high enough for Tony to flinch.

Tony didn’t back down though. He was 21 after all, wasn’t a kid anymore, and his plans, all of them, could be useful, given the chance to put them into motion. Just because Tony wasn’t interesting in creating weapons didn’t mean he was useless, like his father believed. At this point, he was sure his father would end up ruining his own company. Tony, on the other hand, could launch it forward, had a lot to offer. He could bring the stocks back up, reel in a new generation of investors, bring them to the top. Howard didn’t want to hear any of that, of course, didn’t want to believe it, and when Tony worked up the courage to spit out a “Fuck you!” at the end of his ten minute rant, his father yanked his arm forward hard enough for Tony’s knees to buckle.

The smell of whiskey was heavy on his breath, even at 10 in the morning as he loomed over Tony, his grip painful. “Don’t you _ever_ talk to me like that again, you ungrateful little bastard!” Howard growled out. “I am your _father_ and you’ll treat me with some goddamn respect!”

Tony shut his eyes, waited for more. He’d been hit before, knew what to expect. He never enjoyed the sting, the fear he felt when his father struck him, and how long it took for the bruises to go away, but there were worse things he could do, he supposed. He knew other kids had it worse. The seconds drew on, and suddenly, Tony desperately wished Steve would appear to save him, would beat Howard back like he was a Hydra agent, or like he was that group of creeps at a house party Tony’d been to two years ago, the night Steve kissed him for the first time. Howard was careful like that though, only punished Tony when there would be no one around to stop him. Even when drunk, he stuck to that rule, and Tony fucking hated it.

Tony grimaced, tried to pull his arm free from his father’s grasp. “You’re hurting me,” he hissed, his eyes welling up with tears at the sudden pain.

“It’s my damn right to hurt you if I want,” Howard replied, irritated that Tony had even brought it up. He wouldn’t _need_ to hurt him if he would just listen, if he would stop being such a selfish little prick and just _listen_. That being said, he didn’t want to damage his son. Even if he was a disappointment, he still carried the Stark name, and maybe, someday, he would learn his lessons, and finally follow in Howard’s footsteps. His grip lightened marginally, but his tone remained hardened. “You fuck up one more time, and I’ll put you right in your place. You understand me?” he asked.

Tony’s mouth was shut in a defiant line. He glared down at the floor, despite his heart beating erratically. He felt like a rabbit caught in a trap, the metal inches from snapping his neck. He refused to give in, though, as long as he could.

“Do you understand me?” Howard repeated.

The brunet didn’t want to back down, but at the same time, he wanted this over with. He’d been humiliated plenty for the day, and wanted nothing more than to get away from Howard, to get as far away as possible. Thank god the villa was as big as it was; he could find plenty of places to avoid the bastard.

“I understand,” Tony grit out eventually, when his arm was almost numb with the ache of Howard’s fingers digging into it.

Howard shoved him away then, and Tony stumbled, his hip hitting the corner of his father’s massive desk. He let out a little groan, but didn’t get any sympathy for it.

“Get out of my office,” Howard said. “I’ve got a meeting in Austria tomorrow, and a few more things to finish up before travelling. Watch yourself,” he said with a warning index finger. “If I come back to discover any more mistakes of yours, there’ll be hell to pay.”

“Yes, daddy dearest,” Tony said bitterly, and left the room as quick as he could before Howard could say, or do, anything else to him.

He didn’t go to his room. No, that would be the first place someone would look for him. He went to Steve’s instead, curled up on one of the two chairs that were out on the balcony adjoining the room. Steve’s room was in a really good spot in the villa. It afforded him a glimpse of their massive garden and the blooming citrus trees below, but also let him see the ocean. Tony watched the waves rolling as he tried to get his body back under control. The moment he was out of Howard’s office, the shaking began, and the tears spilled out. His stomach was in knots and he felt too warm all over, an uncomfortable prickle of fear running down his spine, even now. His arm was sore, and so was his hip, but worst of all, he just felt plain awful, emotionally, and mentally.

Why was it so hard to please his father? Why couldn’t Howard be like other fathers, kind and caring and patient? Not once that Tony could remember had his father swept him up, held him close and read him a bedtime story, tucked him into bed. The closest he came was letting Tony sit beside his armchair while he smoked and told stories about Captain America, about how he was going to find him one day. He never let Tony get close really, treated him more like an employee than his own son, and his critiques were hard, biting, and constant, even when the brunet was little.

Why was nothing Tony ever did good enough for him? Why couldn’t his father tell him he loved him? It wasn’t fair. Tony wasn’t that bad of a kid. He was smart, and a hard worker, and excelled everywhere he went. He had countless awards already, had been recognized for his efforts in college. Everyone seemed to love him, even if he misbehaved sometimes. So what if he acted out occasionally, or got into trouble at MIT? He was _young_ , and didn’t have much support, save that of his nanny’s growing up, and now, Steve’s. But Howard found fault in Tony wherever he looked.

Tony hated Howard. He wished he would disappear, that he’d drink himself to death in a ditch somewhere. He wished he never had to see his father again, never had to hear his name or smell his favorite kind of alcohol, never had to hear the biting disappointment in his tone as he addressed Tony. What was worse though, was that he still wanted his dad to be proud of him, to like him. He wanted his dad around, but wanted a better version of his dad, one that he’d never get. Tony was desperate for his approval more than anybody’s, despite all that he’d done, and unfortunately, he didn’t think that feeling would ever go away. It was sick, really, how much he wanted it, how much his father’s shitty behavior had made him dependant on any scrap of praise. Howard had missed or dismissed so many of Tony’s milestones that he was actually grateful to see the man at his graduation ceremony, that all of his rightful disdain had disappeared entirely for those few hours. Tony hated it. He hated everything about it.

The brunet wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there, trying to get a handle on himself, watching the water flow in and out of the bay when Steve finally appeared. He felt physically weighed down by his emotions, by misery, and it wasn’t the first time in his life. He was quite familiar with this brand of pain, of self hatred, and was loathe to experience it again. He didn’t have a choice though. He never did.

Steve’s sudden voice settled him a little, filled his cold heart with a fraction of warmth.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Steve said pleasantly. The blond set his bags down by the balcony door. He’d gone into town, to this little art studio to buy some fresh paints and more Linseed Oil. He’d run out of Ultramarine Blue pretty quickly, painting oceanscapes, and needed to get more for his current work in progress. He got up early for it, took a leisurely walk. He liked walking to town, even if it took a long time. The landscape was nice, and he liked taking the time to soak in the details, to let the architecture and environment inspire him.

He’d only been gone for two hours this morning, but with the way Tony was turned from him, how small he looked curled up on the balcony chair… It was clear as day that something went wrong in his absence.

Steve’s heart jumped in his chest, concern sweeping over him.

“Sweetheart?”

Tony turned a little, met Steve’s eyes. There were a few tears still leaving tracks down his cheeks, but he couldn’t bring himself to brush them away. His eyes were dark, kind of distant, withdrawn.

Steve’s heart clenched. He knew that look, he’d seen it before, too many times to count over the few years he’d known Tony. Howard had obviously done or said something again, and poor Tony had paid the price.

The blond’s jaw clenched, and he took swift steps forward, squatted down before Tony to check him over. “What did he do to you?” he asked.

His eyes caught sight of the marks decorating Tony’s arm now. They weren’t there yesterday. Steve’s fingers brushed over them ever so slightly, but Tony still flinched.

“Hurts,” he admitted. “We uh…we had a disagreement while you were gone,” Tony added, avoiding Steve’s gaze.

The blond let out an angry huff, moved to stand up. He’d had enough of this. It wasn’t the first time Howard had laid his hands on Tony, and probably wouldn’t be the last, unless Steve did something about it. He’d offered, so many times, to at least _talk_ to Howard about it, but Tony wouldn’t let him, always held him back. Steve didn’t care anymore now. This had to stop.

“I’m gonna kick his ass,” he said, and turned swiftly to leave.

“No, you’re not,” Tony replied. He hopped out of his chair, wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist to keep him from walking away. Steve walked a few steps regardless, until Tony sunk his heels into the floor and pulled the opposite direction. “Steve, stop!”

Tony wasn’t strong enough to stop Steve from moving, but Steve could sense his intention, and stopped in his tracks, frowning towards the door. “He can’t keep doing this to you, Tony! He needs to be stopped!”

The brunet shook his head, reached up and turned Steve’s head to look at him. “You can’t do anything about it,” he insisted. “I’ve told you before—you need to stay on his good side. If he finds out about us, and you’ve already taken my side over his, who knows what he’ll do. He’ll cut me off for sure, but he might just cut you off too.”

Steve bristled, the blue in his eyes dark and stormy. “I don’t care about that!” he replied. “I care about the fact that he’s—“

“You _should_ care! If he decides it’s over, we’re _fucked_ , Steve, and I know that you could probably find a job and I could too, but it’d be so hard, and we’d never be left alone. You get that, right? The world would throw a fit, and we’d be swallowed up. Do you want your face everywhere more than it already is? Because it will be. But instead of ‘National Hero,’ the headline will say something a lot worse.”

The soldier let out a sharp exhale, took in Tony’s pleading eyes. Tony was right, he knew. They would end up with a lot more trouble than they could easily handle if he went against Howard, and things might of ended up being _worse_ if Steve did something.

But it wasn’t fair. The man was _abusing_ his son, his kind, and intelligent, and beautiful son, who Steve loved more than anything in the world. It drove Steve nuts that he couldn’t protect Tony, that Tony wouldn’t _let_ him protect him from this. There were too many bruises, too many wounding words spoken in the past that dragged Tony down. Steve offered kind ones in turn, always reminded Tony of who he truly was, despite his father’s thoughts, but he wished he could offer so much more. He wanted to take Tony, to hide him from the world, to keep him safe and entirely happy, to shield him from any pain.

It took a lot of effort to quell the anger in his veins every time. One day, he might not have been able to. But for now, he placed his big hands over Tony’s, took a deep breath to calm himself, to pull back the quite justified rage he felt bubbling under the surface. Tony looked up at him expectantly, wide eyed, and Steve couldn’t go against his wishes.

“Fine,” Steve said eventually. “Fine.”

“Thank you,” Tony sighed, his shoulders dropping in relief. He pressed himself against Steve in a hug.

He didn’t feel any better really, could still hear the conversation on repeat in his brain, but at least Steve was here now, and he was able to stop the soldier from confronting Howard. He knew that one day he might not be able to, and was frankly terrified of whatever would happen then, but tried not to think about it now.

One of Steve’s hands cradled the back of his head, the other wrapped around him, warm and safe, and the juxtaposition of it all, of Steve’s touch versus his father’s, made Tony cry all over again. His breathing went shaky, and fresh tears spilled out.

God, he hated it. He hated how Howard got to him, how he could drag him down so much every time. Tony knew his father’s words weren’t true. Tony knew he was smart, and useful, and a decent person, even if he was kind of a brat, but whenever Howard laid into him like that, whenever he said such horrible words, it was hard to remember it. It made him feel small, and stupid, like a child again.

He couldn’t help but think of so many times when he was little, begging for his father’s attention, his affection, and getting nothing good in return. He remembered Howard yelling at him for crying, for expressing himself in ways his father didn’t approve of. He remembered being pushed away, insulted even, as he still was today. He still felt the same confusion, the same shame at it all. Tony hated feeling insecure, which was, unfortunately, what his battles with Howard left him feeling.

A sob bubbled up in his throat, and he cut it off with a choked gasp, but Steve heard and felt it anyway.

“Hey, you’re alright,” Steve soothed, gently rubbing his back. “You’re alright.”

“My ideas aren’t shitty, are they?” Tony replied, voice low, hesitant. “They’re _good_ , they’re helpful. They would do a lot more for the company, for the world, than making shit blow up ever could.”

“You have wonderful ideas,” Steve agreed. “Your brain, the things you come up with, they blow me away, Tony.” The fact that Tony had asked something like this at all was indicative of his mental state. In a good mood, Tony never second-guessed himself, never doubted his own abilities. Now though, he’d fallen victim to Howard’s poisonous words, and not for the first time. This was a softer Tony, one who needed to be reassured, who needed Steve to reassure him. It’d take a long time to build him back up again, and Steve knew just how.

“You’re a good boy, Tony. You know that, right?” he asked, voice low and silky, but genuine.

Tony shuddered a little, pulled back so he could look up into Steve’s face. “Am I?” he asked, sniffled a little.

Steve leaned down, pressed a kiss on his forehead. “You are,” he replied. “I think I should show you how good you are, thank you for being so good. Will you let me?”

Tony didn’t think he deserved it. He knew what Steve was doing, that he was saying it all to make him feel better, but he couldn’t deny the way it pleased him to hear those words, the way it tugged at something deep in him that didn’t get nearly enough attention. Part of him was inclined to agree with his shitty father, that he was unworthy of everything, especially Steve’s attention, his gentle care and love, but Tony wanted it, really badly, and he was going to let himself have it.

He still felt himself go a little breathless though, and nodded softly, stared at the buttons on Steve’s shirt. “Okay,” he said softly.

Steve smiled, brushed a gentle hand through his hair, and stepped back. He moved to the bedroom door and locked it. The click of the locking mechanism made Tony’s heart jump, filled him with anticipation and relief, and his eyes followed Steve across the room, his confident gait, his broad shoulders, the veins running down his arms, visible thanks to his rolled up sleeves. He looked strong, beautiful, safe, and Tony couldn’t believe he had won him over, that Steve was his and his alone.

With Steve’s arms wrapped around him, Tony could breathe a little easier. He always could. He could still remember his father’s words though, still felt his arm and hip aching alongside his heart. “Tell me you love me,” he pleaded softly after a few moments, his voice a little muffled against Steve’s shoulder.

“I love you, Tony,” the blond replied without hesitation. “I love you so much. You’re so perfect, so amazing, and you’re all mine,” he said, brushing his hand through Tony’s dark hair. He let his fingers glance Tony’s neck, with feather light touches that gave him goosebumps. “Can I touch you, sweetheart? Can I show you how good you are, how much you mean to me?”

“Please,” Tony sighed, tilting his neck, pushing up into Steve’s grasp. “Please touch me.” He needed the distraction, needed to feel good, to forget about the morning’s unpleasant events.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Steve replied. He leaned forward a little, placed a slow kiss to Tony’s neck. His lips were warm, and his hands slid down the brunet’s sides, settled on his hips. Tony let out a little moan, adjusted Steve’s hand to sit above the sore spot on his hip. The blond gave him a questioning look.

“Pushed me into the desk,” Tony explained quietly, as if he was ashamed to even admit it.

Steve sighed in annoyance at Howard, frowned heavily, and held Tony closer. “I’m so sorry,” he said.

Tony buried his face in the crook of Steve’s neck, closed his eyes. “Not your fault,” he replied.

“But you deserve better. You should never be hurt. Never.”

“I have you. You’d never hurt me, and that’s enough.”

Steve’s heart fluttered. He loved Tony so much, but once in a while he said or did something that made Steve fall that much more, made him that much more devoted to giving Tony everything he could. “I don’t deserve you,” he replied. “Nobody does.”

Tony hummed a little. He didn’t quite agree with the sentiment, but couldn’t find it in himself to argue. Instead he turned his head, pressed a grateful kiss to Steve’s cheek. Steve turned then too, and their lips met. The kiss started soft, slow, but grew in intensity, and Steve’s hands ran down Tony’s flanks, and Tony’s tugged at his shirt collar, and they kissed until Tony was breathless, until he was a little less keyed-up, sinking easily into Steve’s touch.

“Take off your shirt for me, doll,” Steve muttered against the brunet’s throat. “Can you do that for me?”

Tony shuddered, shifted his hips a little on Steve’s lap. He nodded, drew back to tug his t-shirt over his head. He was already feeling warm, a little eager. The way Steve asked the question, almost an order, made something sharp and pleasant flutter within him, made him happy to concede.

Steve’s big hands brushed down his sides, his fingers dragging just slightly against Tony’s smooth skin. Tony’s skin was always so beautifully tan, even in the winter months, and he took care with expensive lotions and oils that always left him silky and smelling good. Steve pulled his hands back, brushed his thumbs against his boyfriend’s nipples, and placed a kiss to Tony’s jaw. “You’re so beautiful. You belong in a museum,” he said softly.

Tony let out a breathy little moan. God, it felt so good, whenever Steve said nice things about him. It made him burn with embarrassment, with delight, and Steve knew it. He didn’t do it often, saved his praises for days like today, when Tony had been brought low. Normally they were more playful, always pushing each other, challenging each other, but occasionally Steve went soft like this, sensual and attentive, and that always hit Tony so much harder. Tony knew he was doing it on purpose now, was trying to make Tony feel better, and boy, was it going to work, like it always worked. Steve made it so easy to fall into it, to let the blond’s voice overcome the harsh, critical one in Tony’s brain. Steve made it easy to be owned, to forget about everything except the two of them, here and now, and to be entirely content with it.

Still, he couldn’t fall to it so early, needed a lot more coaxing before he was willing to agree with the compliments.

“Hardly. You’re the one who looks like a greek god,” Tony replied, though he smiled a little, arched into Steve’s hands.

“I definitely prefer you,” Steve insisted. He placed a kiss on Tony’s forehead. “Your eyes.”

He lifted one of Tony’s hands, placed a gentle kiss on the inside of his wrist. “Your hands.”

Steve leaned in close then, let his lips brush against the brunet’s. “Your mouth.”

Tony’s head tipped back then, his eyes just a fraction hazier, more unfocused. He felt his face heating up, his stomach swooping. “Steve…” he whispered, a ripple of arousal rushing through him, going straight to his cock, which went from flaccid to hard absurdly quick.

“Beautiful. Perfect,” Steve insisted, a hand dancing up Tony’s back, settling in his dark hair. He tugged on the strands the way he knew Tony loved. Seeing the way he leaned into it, the red spreading over his cheeks made Steve feel warm too, made him shift his hips a little, keenly aware of the weight of Tony on his lap, the gorgeous curve of his ass. “Let me take care of you, baby. Let me make you feel good. Do you want that?”

“I want that,” Tony replied, groaning a little. He put his hands on Steve’s shoulders, ground down against the bulge growing in the blond’s jeans, huge and familiar, and hell, he wanted it. He wanted it bad. He wanted to feel it spread him open, fill him up. He wanted to hear Steve moaning in his ear, telling him how good he was, how good he felt, fucking him long and hard, or slow and gentle, or both, every which way, however Steve wanted it, whatever he would give. “Fuck, I want that,” he sighed.

“You’ve got it,” Steve assured him, and he dove in for another kiss, shifting his hips up against Tony’s, caressing his skin, every inch he could find, and Tony’s hands settled in his hair, fingers curled around the golden strands, tugged a little in a way that had Steve grunting into his mouth, and they kissed and kissed and kissed until Tony’s lips were pink and swollen, until even Steve’s face was red with it, and his cock was hard and leaking in his jeans.

“Steve,” Tony whined softly, thrusting forward a little on his lap. “Fuck me, please, I want your cock.”

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Steve replied, squeezing his ass, pulling on the belt loops of his pants. “Take your pants off, lay on the bed for me, sweetheart.”

Tony slid off of his lap immediately, shuffled back on the king-sized bed, and laid back on the mattress. He unbuttoned his jeans, tugged them off while Steve got off of the bed, reached into his nightstand’s drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube. He dropped it on the bed and started unbuttoning his shirt, taking his time with each button, not fumbling once, while Tony bit his lip, the display going straight to his cock, pre-cum already marking a wet spot on his briefs.

Steve took his shirt off slowly, moved across the room and draped it over the arm chair in the corner. He didn’t want it getting wrinkled.

“Why are you so hot?” Tony complained, drinking in the planes of his body, sun-kissed thanks to the time spent here this summer, hours spent in the sun, out on walks, or by the pool.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Steve replied, crossing the room. He grabbed the bottle of lube, climbed on the bed, and leaned low over Tony, grazed his teeth against the brunet’s collarbone.

Tony’s head fell back against the bed, and he let out a sharp little gasp. Normally he didn’t get worked up this easily, could take a fair bit of teasing and dish out a lot more, but today he couldn’t. Today Steve was disarming him, in every way, and Tony was going to let him. “God, please touch me, I’m so fucking horny.”

That got Steve to laugh a little, and his smile was dazzling. “That’s the plan,” he replied, sitting up, lightly scratching his fingernails down the inside of Tony’s thighs, already spread wide for him. He tugged Tony’s underwear down, freed his straining cock, dropped the garment over the side of the bed, where Tony had shoved his jeans off the edge.

The bruise forming on his hip from where he’d been pushed into Howard’s desk stood out, angry and purple against the brunet’s tanned skin, and it made Steve’s heart clench.

“You’re worth so much more than what you get. You know that, right? God Tony, I wish I could give you the world,” Steve said softly, his hands bracing Tony’s knees.

Tony’s heart fluttered at that, and he squirmed a little on the bed. “Right now I’d settle for your cock,” he joked, but it was only to cover his ass, to hide just how much Steve’s words affected him, how much he loved them.

Steve drew his hands back then, grabbed the bottle of lube. “Then be a good boy for me, baby, show me your pretty hole.”

Oh hell yeah, Tony did exactly that, spreading his legs further, reaching down to expose his entrance. His heart beat fast with anticipation, and he clenched and unclenched his muscles a few times, took delight in the way Steve’s eyes settled over him hungrily at the display.

“Beautiful,” Steve muttered, dripping lube all over his fingers. “Relax for me, sweetheart, let me spread you open, fill you so good.”

That was exactly what he did. Steve took his time, started with one finger, just fucked in and out slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. He pulled out, played with and stretched Tony’s rim, hooked a finger into the side and pulled a little, not enough to hurt but enough to take Tony off guard, and then pressed back in until Tony started rocking his hips into it, wanting more, needing more. Steve worked his way up to three fingers, moving so damn slow, the pads of his fingertips occasionally pressing into Tony’s prostate, leaving him flushed and writhing on the bed, his cock straining with the need to cum. It’d already made such a mess, pre-cum dripping from the head and onto his belly.

“Can you be a good boy, keep from touching yourself?” Steve had asked when Tony’s fingers twitched, inches away from grasping himself.

“Yes,” Tony sighed out automatically. He wanted to be good, wanted to be good for Steve, to earn some of the praise the blond so thoughtfully gave him.

“Perfect,” Steve had replied. “I’m so lucky, so thankful you’re so good, so wonderful. My perfect baby boy.”

They didn’t play up the age difference thing all that often, but Tony really seemed to love it whenever he was feeling insecure like today, loved that Steve was older and stronger and safe, that he took care of Tony willingly, gladly, and even though he wouldn’t admit it verbally, it absolutely always had to do with what Howard did to him, the way he treated him. Maybe it was kind of fucked up to crave that missing affection, to get it from his boyfriend, but Steve never seemed to mind, never judged Tony in any capacity. Steve’s own father hadn’t been perfect either, wasn’t as bad as Tony’s, but wasn’t a walk in the park, but Steve at least had his mother to count on back then, and of course Bucky, so he never felt unloved, never felt that crippling, strangling hold of misery that twisted its way into Tony’s heart so often. Steve did his best to counteract that, to give Tony all that he could, all that he needed.

Tony whimpered, moaned low in his throat, his fingers twisted in the sheets as Steve pumped his fingers in and out, bent low over him and pressed kisses to his hot skin, grazed his teeth against Tony’s shoulder, licked the seam of his lips. Tony’s mouth opened automatically, and Steve swallowed down his moan as he pressed his fingers against his prostate once again, pulled his fingers out to tease against his lube slicked rim, and sunk back in, deeper.

“Steve, fuck—please, I want you,” the brunet gasped between kisses, shifting insistently.

Steve groaned at the tone of his voice, his own cock throbbing in his pants. He’d unbuttoned his jeans a while ago, to relieve some of the pressure, but it was getting hard not to touch himself now too. His boxers were practically soaked and sticky with pre-cum already, and as much as he wanted to draw it out, to keep Tony like this, soft and desperate, he didn’t think he could take much more of it himself.

“You’ve got me,” Steve replied, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his thigh, drawing his fingers out. “Gonna stuff you full of my cock, fill you up just like you want, like you deserve,” he said, kind of breathless as he slipped off the bed to pull his pants off.

The jeans didn’t get quite the loving treatment his shirt had, ended up in the unruly pile Tony’s clothes had already formed on the floor, and the same went for his underwear. His cock was almost painfully hard, and warm, standing tall and wet against his belly, and with the way Tony was spread out on the bed, his skin flushed and chest heaving, his hole already so loose and inviting, Steve didn’t think he’d last long. But he was a super soldier, and one of the blessings that came with it was his low refractory period. Depending on how Tony felt, he would be more than willing to fuck him again and again and _again_.

Tony thought he was going to die if they didn’t get to it in the next half minute. Steve looked so gorgeous, standing tall and naked, his bangs hanging in his face, his massive cock standing at attention. His mouth practically watered as his boyfriend climbed onto the bed again, fit himself in between Tony’s legs. His big hands settled on the underside of Tony’s thighs, pulled him closer so his legs were splayed on either side of Steve’s waist. His touch was gentle but firm, grounding, and suddenly, Tony got emotional again.

“I love you,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose, rubbing his eyes to stop them from tearing up.

“I love you too,” Steve replied, smiling down at him gently. “I love you so much, Tony.”

“I know,” Tony said, his heart warm and full. “I know.”

Steve raised a questioning brow then, and Tony gave a little nod, and then Steve gripped his cock, drizzled a little more lube on it, set the bottle aside again, and started pressing in. Tony was always tight, never quite loosened up entirely, or maybe Steve was just so big that it never really made a difference. The brunet let out a sharp little exhale as Steve pushed forward, so damn slowly. He stayed still as best he could, tried to remember to relax against the intrusion. It seemed to take forever, like it always did when they took it slow, when they weren’t raring to go and rushing it. It took a while, but then Steve’s head popped in, and they both groaned, and Tony reached up to take Steve’s free hand.

The blond took it gladly, rubbed the back of Tony’s hand with his thumb, muttered encouragements as he sank in deeper. “That’s it, you’ve got it,” he gasped out, pushing in that much further, inch by inch. “Taking it so good, opening right up for me like a good boy.”

Tony moaned a little, a shudder running through his body, and he relaxed that much more, opened up like he was born to it, and suddenly Steve sank in to the hilt, wonderfully, achingly big, and hot, filling him completely, like he craved.

“Jesus, my god, how are you so _big_?” Tony asked, screwing his eyes shut. He loved it, loved how huge Steve was, but it was unbelievable sometimes, how he could always fit him _in_ , even if it was a little hard to breathe for a second.

“Blame the serum,” Steve replied, running a gentle hand up and down Tony’s thigh. “It—It made me bigger.”

“But you were big already, I’m betting,” Tony said, shifting just a fraction, torn between telling Steve to move or keep still. He didn’t think it’d take long to cum today, after being so thoroughly worked up, and he was itching to touch his cock, to stroke himself, but he was usually pretty sensitive after cumming, and there was something so satisfying about being able to cum from Steve’s cock only, from it rubbing up against his prostate. It gave Tony a sense of pride, made him feel like he belonged to Steve, and Steve always praised him for it, like it was a miracle, instead of a simple body function.

Steve laughed a little, timidly, and kind of shrugged. “Yeah, I kind of was. Nobody believed it because I was so small.”

“I would’ve believed it,” Tony said, grinning. “You’ve always been full of surprises.”

Steve looked down at him fondly. “You too.”

Tony’s heart beat a little faster, and the pause made him remember exactly what they were up to. “Can you—will you—?”

He didn’t have to say anymore, because Steve understood, and braced his hands on Tony’s hips, careful of the angry bruise on one side, and slowly drew out, until just the tip was in, and pushed forward again. He did it a few times, savoring the slow drag, the way Tony couldn’t help but clench around him a little, and how hot and silky smooth he was, wet with lube.

Tony let out little gasps, and locked his ankles around Steve’s back, rolled his hips into it a little. “God, yes, yes— _oh_ —!“

Steve hit his prostate just there, made sure to press against it all the way in and out, and it sent pleasure right up Tony’s spine, had him arching up off the bed. Steve really got into it then, braced his hands on the bed on either side of the brunet’s head, bent low over him so he could thrust in deep, and soon he got a rhythm going, not too fast but not too slow, a little more relaxed than they usually took it. Time was often of the essence, or sometimes they were just impatient, liked it hard, a little rough, like all the times Tony got Steve worked up, got him heated, because he knew it’d make the blond fuck him harder, really make him feel it.

Steve loved when Tony played with him like that, when he got him pissed with his little games, even if he wouldn’t admit it. The thing was, Tony was always sweeter afterwards, more demure, because he’d gotten his way, and Steve more often than not gave it to him just to see the gratitude in his eyes, to see it in his smile. Today Tony wasn’t riling him up, couldn’t if he tried, because that softer side was already here, just under a desperate, kind of needy shell, in a way that went much beyond the physical.

Steve fucked into him steadily, drank in his low moans, the way they started soft and got louder with each press against his prostate. “Love you,” he groaned out, adding a little more force to the pumping of his hips. His cock twitched desperately, and god it felt so good, and he didn’t think he was gonna last much longer. “Perfect, so tight, fuck you feel good, Tony.”

The way he said it had a wave of pleasure, a sweet, honey-like pleasure wrapping around Tony, making him a little more empty-headed, drowning him a little like he needed. His fingers curled around Steve’s shoulders, and he shut his eyes tight. “Shit, yeah? Good? Good for you?” he gasped, moving to meet each sharp thrust, tightening the circle of his ankles that much more to really give Steve leverage.

“So good,” Steve agreed, shifting just a little and starting his rhythm up all over again. He pressed a wet, open-mouthed kiss to Tony’s neck, felt his pulse, heightened. “Such a good boy, taking my cock so well, doing so, so— _ah_ —good.”

“’M a good boy? Really?” Tony moaned, with just a breath of laughter, like he couldn’t quite believe it, like he thought Steve was joking. His fingers scratched into Steve’s shoulders, but then his hands fell back on the bed, like it took too much effort to keep them up anymore. He was close, he could feel himself rising up that peak, Steve’s voice, his words leading him there, making him feel good all around.

“You _are_ ,” Steve confirmed, and he pulled back so he could look down at Tony, run his fingers down the brunet’s chest, grip his hips once more. “Look at your pretty cock, all ready to cum, aren’t you? Hah—oh fuck—But you’re not even touching yourself, always waiting for your daddy to tell you it’s okay, huh?”

Tony nodded, didn’t even think about it really. He was laid bare, couldn’t bring himself to lie, or hide his thoughts. “Yeah, wanna be good, good for you Steve, daddy, oh _jesus_ , please—please—“ He was so goddamn close, started squirming now, driving himself down further onto Steve’s cock, trying to get him to go faster, or harder, or something.

“Touch yourself for me then, sweetheart, l-let me see you cum,” Steve replied, his words a little rushed, and damn, he wanted Tony to hurry up, to cum first, because he was already so close himself, could feel his balls drawing up tight.

Tony calling him daddy always did something to him, always made him lose control a little, fill him with possessiveness, and this time, after all that had happened today, it really did it. Tony was _his_ , belonged to him, not his shitty father, the man Steve once considered a friend and now considered an unfortunate acquaintance. He thought about ignoring Tony’s wishes, giving Howard a taste of his mean right hook, telling him _exactly_ what had been going on these last few years, letting him know who Tony’s _real_ daddy was, but he pushed those thoughts away, focused on his beautiful boyfriend, moaning and eager in his grasp, seconds away from falling apart.

“Cum for me, and I’ll fill you up,” Steve promised, leaking a little in anticipation.

Tony didn’t need to be told twice. He grasped his dick immediately, already slippery from how much he’d been leaking. He thumbed his slit, teased the sensitive head and then brought his hand down in quick, jerking strokes, eager to get there, to finish, not only for himself, to let go of that overwhelming tension, that deep desperation, but so Steve could cum, so Tony could feel his spunk filling him up, because he liked how it felt dribbling out, when his hole was loose and fucked, because Steve would call it pretty, would play with him when he did, and it made Tony feel so perfect, so loved he could hardly stand it. He loved being dirty, he loved belonging to Steve, and Steve was damn proud Tony belonged to him. 

Tony squeezed his eyes shut, could feel them damp with tears as the blond pummeled his prostate now, trying to drive him over the edge or maybe just chasing his own pleasure, and that gave Tony the push he needed, and suddenly he was cumming so hard he saw stars behind his eyes. He came all over his fist, a high whine slipping out of his lips, that made him sound like a needy little whore, and goddamn it felt good.

Steve groaned at the sound of his voice, the way his walls clenched around him, squeezed him tight. He mumbled something Tony couldn’t quite understand, and then he surged forward, gripped Tony’s hips a little tighter, his cock throbbing as he came, and painted the brunet’s insides with hot cum. Tony shuddered at the sensation, and Steve rode out his orgasm with little thrusts, moaning soft and breathlessly, and he couldn’t seem to stop moving his hips, reluctant to give up the vice around his cock, wet now with his cum, a little looser thanks to Tony’s orgasm. “Fuck… _fuck_ ,” Steve sighed, brows knit with how amazing it felt.

Tony was limp on the bed, chest heaving with each breath, and his legs fell on either side of Steve, unable to keep them locked behind him anymore. “Uhn, Steve,” he sighed, still swimming on that tide of pleasure a little. “Good? Was it good? That was—fuck, that was good. I love you. I love you so much,” he babbled as Steve slowly pulled out, inch by inch, and settled at his side.

Steve exhaled slowly, satisfied, relieved. “It was good,” he agreed, leaning over and brushing a hand over Tony’s damp bangs, settling it on the curve of his cheek. “So good. You’re so perfect, sweetheart. I love you.”

Tony smiled dreamily at that, his eyes shut. He couldn’t bring himself to fight Steve’s praises anymore, instead let them wash over him, leave him warm and happy again. He felt so blessed that Steve indulged him in times like this, was always willing to make him feel better.

Tony turned a little so he could snuggle into Steve’s side, swung an arm around his midsection. “Thank you,” he sighed into Steve’s shoulder. “I mean it.”

“My pleasure,” the blond muttered, resting his head against Tony’s, smiling a little. Tony was starting to sound like himself again, more confident, more at ease, and it settled Steve. He was glad he could help, could make Tony feel better again. “You know I’ll always be here for you, right? I’ll always be here,” he said softly, and he meant it.

“I know,” Tony replied, pressing a grateful kiss to his shoulder. “I don’t know how to thank you enough. I don’t deserve you,” he sighed.

“If I say you deserve me, then you deserve me,” Steve replied matter-of-factly. He pulled Tony’s hand off of his hip, held it gently in his own, looked into his eyes. “I love you, Tony. You make me happy. You make me feel alive, and after so many years in the ice, after losing everything I had, there’s no greater gift you could give me.”

Tony’s throat got tight at that, and he couldn’t find words. The fact that he meant so much to Steve, that somehow he was what made the blond’s day, was kind of overwhelming. Suddenly it didn’t matter so much that his father didn’t care much or think highly of him, because Steve did, and his opinion was worth more than anybody’s, and always would be.

Tony loved Steve with all his heart, knew he’d never love anyone more, and the fact that Steve felt the same, that he’d told him so, suddenly made Tony forget all about the shitty turn the morning had taken. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, off of his heart, and he knew that was what Steve intended. He knew he could count on Steve to pick him up when he fell, no matter how hard, and that? That was pretty amazing.

Tony let out a little laugh that was more of a relieved sigh, and Steve smiled softly at him. God, Tony loved him. He scooted up a little, and their lips met.

“How about you watch me paint today?” Steve asked when he finally pulled back. His eyes were warm and content, and Tony wanted to drown in them. “We’ll just take it nice and slow. Maybe go down to the beach later?”

Tony smiled, honest and bright and beautiful, a smile like Steve had been trying to coax out of him the whole time, and the brunet nodded, curled into his side contentedly. “I’d like that.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Steve replied softly.

And it was exactly what they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave your thoughts in the comments!


	3. Play Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony presents Steve with an interesting challenge that has plenty of reward. He's never been good at playing games fair, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First fic after a major blow to my self confidence. Hopefully this will set me on the right track. Also, this was one of the kinks people said they wanted to see from me so here we are :) Hope you enjoy it! Shorter than the other chapters in this story so far, but hey, they can't all be super long hehe

It took all of Steve’s strength not to snap the (brand new) paint brush in his hands.

He didn’t know how he hadn’t already, with how long they’d been at this, but he managed, long enough to get through the under painting and slapping down base colors on this newest piece.

He was working on the background of his still life now, set up across the room. It was a bowl of fruit, and a handful of flowers spread around the draped cloth. It wasn’t all that interesting, but he couldn’t handle anything more complex at the moment.

He took a deep breath, tried to put another stroke of paint on the canvas, a long, sweeping one, that took up a good chunk of the surface.

That is, it would have been long and sweeping, if Tony hadn’t chosen just then to squeeze around his cock, and send another wave of hot, heady pleasure running up his body.

Steve let out a little grunt, and his elbow dropped slightly, and the line he was painting came out jagged.

Tony hardly tried to stifle his giggle. Steve couldn’t see his face like this, but he didn’t need to for him to know there was a smug, delighted little grin on those plush lips.

“Are you happy with yourself?” Steve asked, shifting his hips a little. He couldn’t help but thrust up a little into the tight channel spread open around his dick, which had been for over an hour now.

He didn’t know how he agreed to this. To be fair, he didn’t know how he agreed to _most_ of the things Tony talked him into doing. It was a challenge this time, really, because Tony knew he liked challenges, and Tony liked to push his buttons, and to push his luck. So maybe Steve shouldn’t have been surprised that he agreed, because he usually did. What could he say? Tony simply had a way with words.

They’d been out in town for a walk after breakfast, at Steve’s request(the garden at the Villa was beautiful of course, but Steve thought a change in scenery would do them both good) when the nefarious idea popped up in Tony’s brain.

Something about being out in public really brought out the worst(best?) in him, as Steve had learned time and time again. Maybe it was because they had to be more careful outside of the safety of their estate, lest the paparazzi catch sight of them, or some local homophobes, or maybe it was because there were more people around for the brunet to intellectually terrorize. Maybe Tony just wanted Steve more when they were outside, because he couldn’t have him just then, and he counted the moments until he could. Maybe it was a combination of all of that which led his mind to dark and devious places, which gave him the confidence to give voice to his ideas, knowing that Steve wouldn’t be able to resist them. The blond wasn’t sure.

Either way, Tony kept brushing his fingers against Steve’s as they passed market stalls, gave him those eyes that said he was up to trouble, and Steve, as always, walked willingly into his trap by asking what he wanted.

“Why don’t we play a little game?” Tony had suggested, sliding his hand up Steve’s broad back, settling on his shoulder. The plaza was kind of crowded, given it was already noon, so the motion drew no attention, and Tony was well aware of the anonymity they were granted at the moment.

“What do you have in mind?” Steve had asked, squinting at him with a healthy amount of suspicion.

“How about,” Tony started, and he leaned in closer, so that no one could hear him. “I warm your cock for a while, just sit on that big fat dick, until you actually can’t handle it anymore, and have to fuck me?”

Steve let out a little gasp. He could admit the thought of Tony stuck on his lap, filled with his cock for hours on end was more than a little enticing. It must have shown in his eyes because Tony tilted his head up a little, grinned at him.

“How long is a while?” Steve asked after he’d gathered his thoughts, voice low.

“Mm, as long as it takes for either of us to give up,” Tony replied with a shrug, and stepped away from Steve, inspected a crate of fresh strawberries at the stand a few feet away.

So. Tony was in _that_ kind of mood, quick to quip, and brazenly confident. Steve loved him like this. He loved that infectious energy that always made him want to step up to the plate, made him want to _tame_ a bit of that fire, to steal it and keep it for himself.

He followed Tony to the fruit stand, put a hand on his back, ready to play. “You think you could outlast me? You can’t go three days without begging to have me in you,” Steve said quietly, leaning in a little.

“Oh I _know_ I can outlast you,” Tony replied. Historically, that wasn’t true at all, but he said it with such conviction that Steve had no choice but to test the theory.

“Alright then. Let’s stop at the paint shop, pick up some new brushes. I’m going to start—and complete—a painting today, and you’re gonna sit on my lap while I do it,” Steve said, standing straight. 

Just the thought sent a shiver of anticipation up his spine.

He’d be testing his own limits here too, really. Tony was so gorgeous, and his touch, the sounds he made when they fucked were too much to handle on occasion. Tony’s presence set Steve’s skin alight like nothing had since waking up from the ice, and he was sure nothing else would ever come close. The pleasure of fucking into him, splitting him wide around his cock… and Tony was never passive about it either, always tried to take him deeper, harder, and that tight heat would clench around Steve just right, and hell, sometimes Steve wondered how he didn’t lose his mind.

He’d have to try hard not to lose it today, if he was going to play this little game with Tony. The brunet would surely make it hard to win.

But hey, Tony been in bad spirits for a few days, and was getting back to his old happy self, which Steve desperately wanted to keep around. They also happened to have the Villa to themselves at the moment, with Maria attending a fashion show in London and Howard on his business trip, which meant it was the perfect time for something this bold, this privately exciting.

Tony seemed equally aware of that fact, which was probably why he suggested it in the first place. He looked Steve up and down now, somewhat hungrily, and licked his lips. “You’re on,” he had replied.

And that was how they ended up here, almost two and a half hours later, with Steve’s cock hard and throbbing in Tony’s ass, the brunet occupied with a book while Steve tried to complete his painting.

Steve couldn’t focus on his painting though, and Tony couldn’t focus on his reading. The pages seemed to fly by in a blur, and he hardly absorbed a word, because every time Steve drew back to dip his brush in oil and sat forward again to place a stroke on the canvas, the massive cock stuffed up Tony’s ass would press against his prostate, and it took all of his brainpower not to let out a moan, or to push back into it. He had a game to win, after all. He was determined to make Steve break first, but goddamn, it was taking longer than he anticipated.

At this point it was probably more than a little uncomfortable for both of them, and Tony’s thighs burned a little from being slung wide around Steve’s legs, and his skin was burning hot. It was a hot day to begin with, and the breeze coming in from the balcony didn’t seem to do anything for them anymore.

Steve’s bangs were plastered to his forehead with sweat, and his shirt long taken off. He felt a little silly, the first ten or so minutes, being dressed up top but without any pants, but that embarrassment wore off as quickly as it came when Tony got comfortable on his lap, leaned back against his shoulder to kiss him deeply.

There hadn’t been another kiss since, because this was a competition after all, and neither were willing to give away an advantage.

Tony was getting a little antsy, honestly, and his cock had risen and fallen in interest about a dozen times over the last few hours, and he did anything and everything to think of something else, something unpleasant, the fingers tightening around his book, because he really didn’t want to touch himself. Strictly speaking, Steve had never said he couldn’t, but Tony knew getting off would be the end of the game, and he was a sore loser.

Still, his heart was beating kind of erratically, and as the hours passed, and Steve’s initial sketch turned into something concrete on the canvas, Tony’s willpower was kind of slipping. He knew Steve was in the same boat though, heard it in his voice whenever they talked, saw it in the shake of his hands around his brush.

When it got too hard to focus on his book anymore, Tony thought of other ways to occupy his time: namely messing with Steve.

All things considered, he liked sitting here, on Steve’s cock, without any fucking. He liked being full, Steve’s weight against his back, his arms coming forward around him to work. It made him feel safe in a weird way. He wondered what it’d be like to sleep like this, full of Steve, with the soldier all around him. He wondered what it’d feel like to be _kept_ , and if Steve liked keeping him, if he wanted to keep him in that way. He thought it’d be really nice, and if he weren’t so damn _horny_ , so turned on by this whole challenge, he would try to take a nap right here and now, with his partner filling him up.

This just wasn’t the time for it though. Maybe it could be arranged later, way after all of this, because he was sure he’d be sore by the end of the day. He was already getting sore, actually, and that encouraged him to play dirty, because he wanted Steve to lose, to give in to it all and fuck him, so he could take a shower and pass out on the blond’s big bed until dinnertime.

It took less than a second to decide to mess with Steve, and when he lifted his hand to apply fresh paint to his painting, Tony clenched around him, wiggled his hips a little, and took pleasure in the way it disrupted his boyfriend.

“I am happy with myself,” he replied when questioned, even though the movement made him a little more desperate too, and he had to reach up to brush hair from his eyes. His curls were somewhat of damp with sweat, and he was sure his face was flushed by now.

Steve let out a little sigh, and Tony knew he was shaking his head, could see it in his peripheral vision.

“But you know, I’d be happier if you just admitted this is getting to be too much for you to handle,” Tony said suggestively, flipping his book to a new page.

He couldn’t even remember what he was reading about at this point. It was one of his mother’s classic novels—Wuthering Heights? Yeah, that was the one. It wasn’t his kind of thing, really, but it was what he had on hand. He knew at the start of this that he wouldn’t really be able to focus on it anyway, so he’d picked something random. He liked watching Steve work, in general, because the skill that went into his pieces was fascinating and a little awe inspiring, and besides, he knew when he invented this little game that it would take up most of his focus.

“Who’s saying it’s too much for me?” Steve replied, leaning over a little to check the still life. He needed to make sure the color he was mixing was just right.

“Uh, your dick? I’m pretty sure that’s more than just lube down there making me all slippery and wet,” Tony pointed out, and he shifted a little for emphasis.

Steve had to bite his lip to keep from making a sound.

Okay, he could admit he had been leaking pre-cum pretty much non-stop, even when his cock flagged a little here and there. It never got fully flaccid since they’d started, because every time he came close, he would think about what they were doing, or Tony would say something or move a certain way, and he’d be back at attention in no time.

Could it be helped? Could he be blamed? They’d lubed up well, because neither knew just how long they could keep this going, because they were both so damn stubborn, and they didn’t want Tony getting hurt or anything. As a result, the brunet was silky and hot around him, and although the pleasure ebbed and flowed enough for Steve to pay attention to his work, it wasn’t without difficulty, especially now, when Tony had apparently had enough of waiting for Steve to lose, and was going to try and _make_ him lose.

“As if you haven’t made a mess too,” he shot back, glancing over Tony’s shoulder to take a look at his cock, peeking out beneath his oversized t-shirt. It was Steve’s shirt too, because the brunet couldn’t help but add insult to injury with all of this, had changed out of his own clothes before they got started. Tony didn’t wear Steve’s clothes often, but when he did, it just made another layer of love unfold in his heart, made something warm and kind of possessive fill him, and Tony knew it. He really never played fair.

“As if you haven’t been sitting here for hours, with me filling you up, hoping, praying I’ll give up the whole thing and fuck you silly,” he muttered into Tony’s ear.

“You’re right,” Tony replied, turning his head and pressing a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “Just like you’ve been hoping and praying that I’ll _beg_ for it, that I’ll let you win and you can finally, _finally_ , take me, spread my legs wide and just fuck your cum up into me where it belongs,” he said, voice low, salacious. 

Jesus, this was difficult.

Tony was right. Steve wanted that, so bad, wanted to just give up the whole thing and really give it to him. He was so damn hard, and it was torture right now, with Tony’s heat squeezing around him. He’d been able to ignore it for a while, but the urge to fuck up into the hole so beautifully spread around him was becoming overwhelming. Steve wanted to give up, wanted to let Tony win. He wanted to take what was being offered to him, wanted to take what was _his_.

He couldn’t do it though, wouldn’t let himself, but if Tony was going to purposefully try to work him up now, Steve could do the same.

He set his brush down, wiped his hands on his cloth.

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Steve asked, bracing his hands on Tony’s thighs. They were so warm, hot, really. He let his hands slide up slowly, grasp Tony’s waist. “You’re hungry for it. You always want me to mark you up inside and out, want the whole world to know that I’m the one you spread your legs for.”

Tony leaned back against his chest, took care in slowly closing his book after marking the page. His heart was beating fast, and damn did Steve’s words send a thrill up his spine, but he was determined not to let it show.

“Maybe you’d like to announce it yourself,” he replied. “At one of my father’s parties. You’d love to just put me in your lap like this, rip my clothes off, fuck me in front of the crowd, wouldn’t you? Because _you_ want _them_ to know that I belong to you, and nobody else.”

“You’d let me do it, if I wanted to,” Steve retorted. “You’d let me show them all how sweet you look, how beautiful you sound moaning on my dick…” He rocked forward just a fraction then, let his length press against the brunet’s prostate.

Tony exhaled softly at that, shut his eyes. Steve was right. He _would_ let him do it. He’d let Steve do anything to him, regardless of who was watching.

He could imagine it, could imagine the mortification, the sick thrill of being put on display, of being fucked and claimed in front of a crowd, in front of cameras and the whole world, and Steve’s hands on him, his voice in his ear. Everyone would know exactly who Tony was, who he belonged to. And after the first time maybe it could happen again, and Tony could be sitting like this on Steve’s cock all the time, a beautiful little ornament for Steve to use, or ignore, or both, depending on his mood. Tony could be his little whore, who everyone wanted but would never get a piece of, because he belonged to Steve alone.

Jesus, that was an insane thought, a crazy fantasy. Sometimes Tony couldn’t believe the kind of stuff he thought up, and often wondered if he was some kind of delinquent. Like honestly, did other people think of such absurd things? He couldn’t have been the only horny bastard in the world. He didn’t really mind the title, though, especially where Steve was involved. What was wrong with being young and in love? Nothing at all, if he had any say about it.

A small, dark part of him wanted his fantasy to be real though, to actually do all of that. He wanted to belong to Steve in any way possible, which really spoke to just how high in regard Tony held him, because he knew who he was, and he knew his self worth, and he would only offer himself entirely to someone truly amazing: someone like Steve.

Although Tony knew it was impossible, the fantasy, one of many, honestly, was charming enough to have him leaking a little from the head.

“I would,” he replied breathlessly, didn’t bother to pretend otherwise. “I’d let you.”

“You’re too good to me,” Steve replied, heart swelling. He dropped a kiss on the brunet’s shoulder.

Every day he marveled at his relationship with Tony, at the love he was lucky enough to have. Tony trusted him absolutely, with everything, with all of himself, and it was equal parts humbling and arousing. Tony always made Steve feel larger than himself, made him feel like…like he mattered, somehow, in a real way, not in the way the history books said he did. It was something personal, something special, and Steve loved it, wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

He brought his hands up under the brunet’s shirt now, let them brush down his abdomen and stop just shy of his groin, his touch soft, reverent.

“Well, if you say so,” Tony said, somewhat amused. The praise only stirred more heat in his belly, and Steve’s hands on him made him squirm a little, made that burning under his skin grow that much hotter, fill him with so much desire it was almost overwhelming. He licked his lips, took a breath to steady himself before he did something stupid like admitting defeat. There was still a game to be played, after all.

“Does that mean you’re ready to give up? Because, if you haven’t noticed, you’ve stopped painting,” he prodded.

“I’m not giving up,” the blond insisted, though he seemed to be doing just that, thrusting forward slowly, and pulling back, savoring the slick slide of the brunet’s walls clenching around him. God, he really wanted to give up, wanted to chase his pleasure, to hear Tony cry out his name, and to make him feel good, finally push him over the edge after so long.

“Just admit it,” Tony replied, turned to brush his lips against Steve’s. “Just admit it and you can have me, I’m all yours.” He rolled his hips ever so slowly, as torturous as it was, and tried to ignore the urgency growing in his core in favor of dragging it out so damn slow he thought he was going to die. He needed Steve to break though, didn’t want to give up the game.

Steve couldn’t help but chase Tony’s lips, capture them in a kiss. His fingers settled on the brunet’s hips again, and god, kissing him felt like Heaven, like it always did, and honestly? He didn’t really want to fight this anymore. Tony was offering himself—hell, he’d been sitting _on Steve’s dick_ for hours—and he was sick of waiting for it. Maybe he could admit defeat just this once, sacrifice his pride for the pleasure of fucking in and out of the tight channel wrapped around his length, feeling his partner tremble beneath his fingertips.

“How about a truce?” he muttered against Tony’s lips.

Tony hummed a little into the kiss, let his book drop out of his hands and over the side of his chair. It hit the floor with a thud.

“Truce,” he agreed, and set his hands over Steve’s, kissed him deeply, desperately, like he’d wanted to for so long now.

Steve didn’t waste any time. He slid his hands down around Tony’s thighs, spread his legs wide and lifted them a little to get a better angle, and started thrusting up into him. One of Tony’s hands reached back around his shoulder to steady himself, and the first deep slide of the blond’s cock had them both groaning.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Tony sighed, the pleasure already mounting, after being here for so, so long.

Steve fucked into him at a moderate pace, long, deep strokes that had his back arching, hips wiggling, trying to get more, trying to chase those incredible moments where the blond’s fat cock would press against his prostate and chills would run through him. “Shit, yes, more…”

“God, you feel good,” Steve groaned between thrusts, his fingers flexing around Tony’s thighs a little, holding him closer, tighter, relishing in his presence, the little moans his fucking drew out of the brunet. Tony was saying his name, breathless and desperate, and it had pleasure rolling so deep through Steve he felt a little lightheaded with it.

Tony’s fingers dug into Steve’s shoulder then, the other hand reaching back to grasp the back of the chair. Every thrust felt so deep, so overwhelming in all the right ways, and god, he was already sensitive after being impaled on Steve’s cock for _so long_ , but it really just made him more eager for it.

His head tipped back against Steve’s shoulder, and he didn’t bother trying to stop the high whines from spilling out each time he was pushed up a little with Steve’s thrusts.

“Steve—Steve—oh—!“

The soldier couldn’t help but pump his hips a little harder then, and he shut his eyes tight. Usually he could last longer, but he’d been so ready to go for so long that it wouldn’t take much more time at all to reach the peak. “Tony—fuck—“

“Yeah, please—please, I wanna—“

The brunet couldn’t even get the words out, but Steve knew what he meant, what he was asking for, like he always did. He lowered one of Tony’s legs in favor of wrapping a hand around his cock, and it not only changed the angle of his thrusts, but elicited another beautiful moan from Tony’s lips.

“ _Fuck_ , oh my god! Steve—”

“ _Yeah_ , come on, come on sweetheart,” Steve replied, stroking his length in time to his thrusts.

Tony had leaked so much that he didn’t even need lube, but if he did, Steve could’ve easily stuck a hand down where they were connected and swipe up some that had gathered there. Each thrust was accompanied by a lewd squelch from how damn wet they’d gotten him for this, and that, combined with their huffs and the sound of slapping skin made for a truly undignified soundtrack that somehow made this whole thing that much better, that much hotter.

God, the _ideas_ Tony had. They really would be the death of Steve.

There wasn’t much time for conversation then. Steve’s huge, warm hand running up and down his shaft had Tony reaching his limit far too quick for his own liking. He couldn’t do anything but hold on for dear life and throw his head back as he came all over Steve’s hand, the pleasure running through him like lightning, heady and fast, almost too much.

He was still coming down from it when Steve followed him over the peak, the hand wrapped around Tony’s thigh squeezing tight enough to bruise, and hips jerking forward with each spurt of cum. Tony’s name was on his lips, and his eyes were shut tight from the intensity of it all.

“God, _Tony_ ,” he groaned through it, sounding a little more wrecked than he probably preferred, but he _felt_ wrecked, even though he was the one doing the fucking. Tony’s body just drove his own insane, and his personality, his soul, drove the soldier’s _heart_ insane to match.

They both, more or less, collapsed in the chair, with Tony plastered against Steve’s chest, trying to catch his breath. His eyes were a little watery, and it was kind of hard to hear—that’s how damn good it had been. Steve was in similar shape, and it took him a long time to move or say anything, and that filled Tony with a prideful sort of glee, because Steve was a damn super soldier, and if Tony could get this kind of response out of him, he was doing something right.

When he felt coherent enough, Tony let out a little laugh, and turned his head to capture Steve’s lips. The blond’s hands framed his waist once again, and he met Tony’s lips enthusiastically, actually smiled into the kiss a little, and they had to break.

“What’d you think?” the brunet asked.

“Insane, yet rewarding, like most of your ideas are,” Steve replied after a second of thought.

They were both a _mess_ , and desperately needed clean up, and fast, but he could hold off on that for a few more minutes if only to take in the brunet’s flushed cheeks, his mussed up hair, and the smile he was unable to keep off of his face. There were few sights better in life than a happy Tony, he thought.

Tony grinned victoriously at him, sat up and turned a little more to get a good look at him. “You up for a repeat sometime?”

Steve kissed him softly then, sweetly, and it left Tony’s heart fluttering, filled him with an easy-going sense of joy that he only ever got from being with Steve. Nothing else could ever come close, he was sure. He loved it, loved that sense of euphoria. He loved how safe and perfect the soldier made him feel, like all of his problems just melted away in his company.

Tony wasn’t a religious guy, but if there really was a god, he had clearly blessed Tony with Steve’s divine presence.

When Steve pulled back, Tony let out a content little sigh, hazy eyes gazing up at him reverently.

Steve smiled at him, the love palpable in his blue eyes, and he nodded, pressed their sweaty foreheads together. “Name the time and place, sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave your thoughts!


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